Veil of Contentment
by Phenyx
Summary: Happily ever after just isn't everything its supposed to be. CHAPTER 9. Rated XS for eXtra Sappy. Warning may induce vomiting if mixed with Pez! FINISHED.
1. Summons

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it.  
  
-  
  
Veil of Contentment By Phenyx 12/21/03  
  
-  
  
The phone was ringing. Jarod could hear the incessant trill coming from the device next to the bed. But he was not inclined to answer it. As a matter of fact, he was exactly the opposite. Wild horses couldn't drag him away from his mattress right now. He was exhausted and could barely move. With a moan, Jarod buried his head under his pillow and conjured up the most vile of curses for whomever was disturbing his slumber.  
  
When the noise stopped, Jarod sighed with relief and snuggled back under the covers. He was nearly asleep again a moment later when his cell phone started beeping on top of the dresser where Jarod had abandoned it last night next to his keys and some change. Jarod gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the summons.  
  
"Jarod," a barely feminine voice hissed beside him. "Answer the damn phone."  
  
Groaning sleepily, Jarod did a fair job of ignoring her as well. The cell beeped enough times to roll into voicemail, plunging the room back into silence. The caller evidently didn't bother to leave a message because less than a heartbeat later, the phone on the nightstand began to ring again.  
  
With a long-suffering sigh, the lump of warmth sharing Jarod's bed rolled into a sitting position and grabbed up the telephone. "What?" she grumbled angrily. After a pause she answered, "He's here. He's trying to sleep." Another pause ensued, "I will not! Tell him yourself. I'm his wife not his answering service." Nearly growling in irritation, she viciously tossed the handset at Jarod, striking him in the abdomen. "Your girlfriend's on the phone," she snarled.  
  
Jarod sighed without opening his eyes. He knew that his wife was baiting him but Jarod simply didn't have the energy for a fight this morning. They had spent too many mornings snipping at each other in the last year. Jarod was tired of it. He knew that anything he said at this moment would be the beginnings of another row. Or perhaps it would be the continuation of last night's battle. Either way, Jarod wasn't in the mood so he kept quiet.  
  
The mattress shifted as his pretty wife got out of bed. Jarod could hear her movements as she pulled on her robe. In his mind Jarod could picture her running her hands through the tangle of red curls on her head as she walked toward the bathroom.  
  
Only after the door had closed with a firm slam, did Jarod pick up the phone. "Morning, Sue," Jarod said into the phone.  
  
"The little woman sounds a tad testy," the kind soft voice said. "Did you have another fight?"  
  
"Do you need to ask?" Jarod snorted.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jarod," was the reply.  
  
"It isn't your fault, Susan," Jarod said sternly. "You have no reason to be sorry."  
  
"She hates your job," Susan said.  
  
"Yes," Jarod agreed, closing his eyes wearily.  
  
"I'm your boss," the gentle voice went on.  
  
Jarod smiled slightly at that comment. "I thought we were going to discuss a partnership," he teased.  
  
Soft laughter floated across the phone line. "Have you talked to Zoë about it?" Susan asked. "Your wife hates me enough as it is. Giving you more of the agency to run is going to send her over the edge."  
  
Jarod sobered. Heaving his weary body into a sitting position, he leaned against the headboard and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Zoë doesn't hate you, Sue," he said carefully. "She hates the lifestyle. She hates that I disappear for days at a time. She hates the guns and the morgues and the disturbing photographs that make up such a large part of what you and I do for a living."  
  
"Are you going to quit, Jarod?" Susan asked uncertainly.  
  
"We've had this discussion before, Susan," Jarod grumped. "I realize that Zoë wants me to find more conventional employment. But you know that I can't walk away from the agency. I can't walk away from those kids."  
  
"You can't save them all, Jarod," was the gentle reply. "We will always find too many of our lost lambs in the coroner's office."  
  
"You're a lousy devil's advocate, boss-lady," Jarod grinned. "You could never walk away either. You care too much. That's why the Granger Detective Agency is so good."  
  
"Don't bother sucking up, smart-ass," Susan replied. "Good work with the Michaelson boy by the way. I hear bringing him home wasn't easy."  
  
"He'll be in detox for a while," Jarod shrugged. "But if we can get him sober, I think we can keep him from running away again."  
  
"His folks are in counseling now as well," Susan explained. "They're getting professional help on the best ways to help their son stay off the drugs."  
  
Jarod smiled to himself. Susan Granger was an incredible woman. Funny and smart, she could be tender and loving one minute and tough as nails the next. In the last three years, not only had Susan become Jarod's boss but she'd also become his best friend.  
  
Jarod had come to Florida after escaping the Island of Carthis. He'd been frustrated at missing his mother and wounded by Miss Parker's callous rejection. Completely baffled as to where to continue his search for his family, Jarod had returned to Susan Granger's office in Miami. To his wonder, the private eye had been waiting for Jarod to contact her again because she had information about Jarod's sister Emily.  
  
Once Jarod had reunited with his baby sister, things had happened very quickly. Within six months, he and his family were living together in a large home in southern Florida. Jarod's mother had indeed held evidence that was detrimental to the Centre. Calling in another favor, Jarod had sought the help of a federal agent he had worked with in the past. Bailey Malone had taken the information about the Centre and used it.  
  
The Centre's collapse and the disintegration of the Triumvirate power base had been incredibly swift. Raines and Lyle had been indicted on multiple charges the same week that Jarod and Zoë had gotten married.  
  
For a while, Jarod's life had been nearly perfect. He and Zoë had spent six months renovating the sprawling old Victorian house they shared with Jarod's parents. The extended family had lived together quite peacefully at first. Jarod's mother and Major Charles both got along well with Zoë. The youngest among them, Jarod's teenaged twin Jack, simply adored his perky little sister-in-law.  
  
Ethan lived in a loft apartment that the brothers had built above the garage. Though he was still a skittish and easily frightened young man, Ethan's confidence and security were growing each day. He had a job working as a gardener on a nearby college campus and had built a small circle of close friends there.  
  
Emily had also lived with the family in the beginning. But just after Jarod and Zoë's first anniversary, Emily had announced her intent to move to the city in order to take up residence with the newest love in her life. A botany professor at the same campus where Ethan was employed, Paul was a kind, soft-spoken man two years older than Jarod. Though the pretender hadn't been thrilled to learn his little sister was sleeping with a man so many years her senior, Jarod could find no other reason to fault the relationship. Paul obviously adored his sweetheart. He treated Emily like a queen.  
  
Jarod had been happy. At least, that was what he told himself. He had ignored the nightmares and buried his insecurities. For a time, it had worked. The pretender's contact with his old life dwindled to little more than the occasional phone call to Sydney. He sent Parker Christmas cards and never denied Ethan's right to visit Delaware. But after Carthis, the sad, weary phone conversation with Miss Parker had seemed so final that to Jarod, it had felt like goodbye.  
  
The pretender hadn't quite understood how to incorporate the two lives. Fearing that his parents would continue to feel threatened by the Centre, Jarod had severed his ties to the place and the people connected to it. He had locked away his DSA player and never mentioned the pain filled years of his childhood. Even his calls to Sydney, few and far between, were made in secrecy.  
  
It had taken eighteen months for Jarod's delicate façade of normalcy to crack. The collapse began on the day that a child disappeared. Miami had been thrown into a frenzy of media coverage. The little girl, daughter of two highly respected lawyers, had vanished from her home. Jarod had watched on television as police and federal agents scurried frantically to find the missing child. When the Granger Detective Agency had become involved, Jarod had immediately called his old friend Susan and had offered his help.  
  
From the moment the pretender had stepped into the child's home, he knew that something was horribly wrong with the official version of the disappearance. Jarod had done an excellent job. He had done it quickly and better than anyone else could have expected. But he hadn't been fast enough.  
  
Jarod had found the girl two days later in a less desirable part of town in an apartment leased to her father. The facts proved that the man had taken the girl there on more than one occasion and molested her. The mother had been suspicious of her husband, but had never dreamed that the affair he had been having was with his own child.  
  
When Jarod located her, the dark-haired child in her neatly pressed school uniform was hanging from the ceiling with an electrical cord wrapped around her neck. She'd been eleven years old when she died. Her parents had been devastated by their child's suicide. A public outcry had risen around the girl's father. Jarod's nightmares increased exponentially.  
  
When Jarod asked Sue Granger for another case to work on, the blonde investigator thought he'd been trying to atone for his failure to save Cindy Miltner. As the months passed and the pretender became part of the staff at the agency, Susan tried to talk to the pretender about that first horrible case. But Jarod insisted upon taking the worse cases, the most hopeless files. The pretty little girl hanging in her father's love nest had not been the last dead child the pretender had located.  
  
For each missing child the pretender brought home safely, there was one to bury and two still lost. The depths of cruelty toward one's own offspring never failed to shock Jarod. Even Susan admitted to being traumatized by some of the things they discovered together. "When it no longer affects us," she'd told Jarod once. "That is when we stop being human."  
  
Jarod saved as many as he could, bitterly mourning those he could not. His own parents began to worry about him as he worked longer and longer hours. When his relationship with Zoë began to crumble, Jarod seemed unwilling, perhaps unable, to do anything to stop it.  
  
Zoë and his parents thought that Jarod continued to be driven by his failure to save that first little girl, as though rescuing another child could redeem him for losing Cindy. Jarod couldn't find a way to explain the real problem to them. How was he to describe the guilt he felt over that sweet child? How could he justify the life he now led? Why had he survived the horrors of his childhood while Cindy Miltner had not?  
  
The pestering complaints from his wife took on a trivial aspect to Jarod. As he spent more time away from home, Zoë became convinced that Jarod and Susan were sleeping together. Jarod, hurt and a little perplexed at her suspicions, reacted by throwing himself even further into his work. Zoë couldn't understand. She didn't see the darkness in the world. Jarod knew it only too well.  
  
The disintegration of Jarod's marriage took on an insidious subtlety. It hadn't been until six months ago that the pretender even realized what was happening and by then, it had been too late. In burying the agony of his past, Jarod had buried a part of himself. He had hidden much of who he was from the very people who claimed to love him most. The result had been an emotional separation between himself and Zoë that had existed from the moment they'd met. Now the distance between them was a chasm and he had no clue how to bridge the gap.  
  
"Are you listening to me?" Susan's voice floated from the phone indulgently.  
  
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Jarod returned his attention to what his boss was saying. "No," he admitted. "I'm sorry."  
  
"You're tired," Susan said compassionately. "I'll tell him that you just aren't available right now."  
  
Jarod frowned. "Him?" he asked. "Who are you talking about?"  
  
"You haven't heard a word have you?" Susan sighed heavily. "The man standing in my office. He insists upon talking only to you. He says he was sent to fetch you."  
  
Jarod sat up and ran one hand through his hair. "Sue, I just can't," Jarod groaned. "You know I missed Zoë's birthday last week. I promised to make it up to her. I can't take another case right now."  
  
"I know, Jarod," Susan replied. "But he seems so emphatic."  
  
Jarod glanced up warily as the bathroom door opened and Zoë appeared. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall and glared angrily at her husband. "I'm spending the next few days with my wife," Jarod said firmly.  
  
"It's okay, Jarod. Lord knows you've earned it." Susan's smile was apparent in her voice. "I'll try to talk Mr. Broots into accepting an alternative."  
  
"What?" Jarod snapped to attention at the name Susan mentioned. Jarod swallowed and wet his lips before demanding, "Sue, put him on the phone. Now."  
  
"All right," Susan answered warily.  
  
There was a moment's hesitation before a familiar voice wavered, "Hello?"  
  
"Has something happened to Debbie?" Jarod asked without preamble.  
  
"No," Broots replied. "Miss Parker sent me. She needs your help."  
  
"I'll meet you at the airport in an hour," Jarod said in a firm, flat voice. Immediately disconnecting the call, Jarod tossed aside the blankets and began getting dressed.  
  
Zoë stared at him, fury etched in every line of her face.  
  
With a sigh, Jarod shrugged. "This is really important, Zoë."  
  
"It always is," she whispered in frustration. "When will I be important, Jarod?"  
  
Stepping close to his wife, Jarod tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You are important," he insisted.  
  
"But not more so than this, right?" she sighed wryly. "Am I second in your life Jarod? Third perhaps?" She shook her head sadly. "Do I even make the top ten list anymore?"  
  
"Of course you do," Jarod argued.  
  
"Then stay," she insisted.  
  
"I have to go," Jarod shrugged again.  
  
"She calls and you run to her side." Angry tears began to run down Zoë's cheeks.  
  
"Yes," Jarod admitted. It wasn't until after his wife had slammed out of the room that Jarod realized Zoë had been talking about Susan. But then Zoë had never met Miss Parker. Come to think of it, Jarod couldn't recall ever talking to Zoë about the Centre's beautiful huntress.  
  
With a weary sigh of resignation, Jarod admitted to himself that there was nothing he could tell his wife about Miss Parker that would ease the strain in their marriage. If anything, having Parker back in his life could only serve to complicate matters even further. Tossing a few items into a travel case, Jarod hauled the bag onto one shoulder and rushed out the door.  
  
He would have to worry about Zoë's misconceptions later. Parker was waiting.  
  
-  
  
End Part 1 


	2. The pretender returns

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it.  
  
-  
  
Veil of Contentment  
  
- By Phenyx -02/11/04  
  
-  
  
"It's been a long time since I've traveled this way," Jarod murmured as he looked around appreciatively, caressing the luxuriously covered seat. "My father and I have a Cessna 303 that gets plenty of air time, but the only leather you'll find on board is my coat."  
  
Broots nodded, glancing at the spacious interior of the private jet. "Miss Parker sold two of the fleet but she's kept the others," he said with a shrug. "The jets are used often enough, but not like they were before."  
  
Jarod grinned. "Not chasing stray pretenders across the country anymore," he chuckled.  
  
The two men shared a wry smile before falling back into the uncomfortable silence that had prevailed since takeoff. Jarod stared at Broots with an intensity that made the technician squirm awkwardly.  
  
"Why don't you tell me what has happened?" Jarod asked suddenly.  
  
Broots flinched. "I thought Miss Parker should be the one to do that," he said.  
  
Jarod tilted his head curiously before saying, "I'm sure time is of the essence, Mr. Broots. You should take this opportunity to bring me up to speed rather than staring at me like an idiot."  
  
Blinking in surprise at the sharpness in the pretender's tone, Broots shrugged. "Teddy has been kidnapped," he said simply.  
  
"Teddy?" Jarod asked with raised brows. "Parker's baby brother?"  
  
Broots nodded. "She gained custody of the boy when Raines was sent to prison."  
  
"I had heard," Jarod said.  
  
"After Raines' death, Miss Parker adopted the little guy," Broots went on. "She's legally been his mother for over a year now."  
  
"Good for her," Jarod smiled wryly.  
  
"He's been taken," Broots stated bluntly. "He was on a field trip to the art museum in Dover. Someone grabbed him from beside his classmates and ran off."  
  
Jarod chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. "The boy is six or seven years old isn't he?"  
  
"He'll be seven next month," Broots agreed.  
  
"First grader?" Jarod asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Public school or private?" the pretender fired his questions rapidly.  
  
Broots answered. "Teddy goes to the same private school Miss Parker attended when she was that age."  
  
"So he was last seen wearing the school uniform," Jarod said.  
  
Broots nodded. "Our first thought was that Lyle had arranged the attack from his jail cell," he admitted.  
  
"It would be simple enough for him to do," Jarod agreed. "What made you change your minds about Lyle being responsible?"  
  
"We found this at the scene," Broots replied, holding out a single sheet of paper that he had pulled from his pocket.  
  
Jarod glanced quickly at the page. "Is this the original?" he asked.  
  
"No," Broots answered. "The authorities have the original. I was able to make this copy."  
  
Jarod read the ransom note carefully. "$100,000 - Middlefield Park - noon on Friday. Bring the cash to the marker at the start of the hiking trail and wait for further instructions."  
  
"Not exactly Lyle's style," Broots said pointedly.  
  
Jarod nodded. "Knowing Parker's financial situation, Lyle would have asked for a lot more money," the pretender added. Looking at his watch, Jarod murmured, "Noon, Friday. That gives us just over twenty-four hours. Could any of the other students describe the suspect?"  
  
Broots shrugged. "White male wearing dark glasses, denim jacket and a plain blue baseball cap."  
  
"Did the security system at the art museum catch the abduction on tape?" Jarod suggested.  
  
"No," Broots replied. "And there's no one matching the description seen on any of the video prior to the attack. We've got only a few images of his back as the guy ran out the door, nothing useful."  
  
"I'll want to see it anyway," the pretender frowned thoughtfully.  
  
Broots nodded. "One more thing, Jarod," the technician said softly. "The feds aren't pleased that Miss Parker has asked for you on this. They don't like private investigators treading on their turf."  
  
Jarod shrugged. "They never do," he admitted.  
  
"Miss Parker wants you to make the exchange," Broots said slowly.  
  
The pretender nodded seriously.  
  
Broots smiled sadly at his former quarry. "I was afraid that you wouldn't come," he said guiltily.  
  
Jarod cocked one eyebrow at the balding man facing him. "I know better than to disobey a summons," he replied, only half-joking.  
  
"She's not as bad as she used to be," Broots said defensively.  
  
"Speak for yourself, Mr. Broots," Jarod chortled. "I'm sure I am still number one on the list of people she'd like to shoot."  
  
"She only threatens to shoot the people she really likes," Broots said with a smirk.  
  
"And the people she really hates," Jarod added with a smile. "I've just always had trouble figuring out which of those categories I fall into."  
  
--  
  
Broots was driving three hours later when the car rounded a bend and Parker's house came into view. The structure itself had not changed much in the years since Jarod had last seen it. The shutters had been painted the same color and Parker obvious still employed the same old gardener. Other than the line of vehicles parked in the driveway, the place seemed to be exactly as it had been four years ago.  
  
Broots had to identify himself to a police officer before they were allowed to pass the string of reporters and gawking onlookers. Jarod ignored them all. He'd seen this type of crowd far too often in his experience with missing children. They drove passed a police cruiser and an unmarked van. Broots edged his car beside a dark sedan that Jarod assumed belonged to the federal agents that were undoubtedly present.  
  
Before stepping out of the vehicle, Jarod pulled dark glasses from his pocket and put them on. Flipping up the collar on his jacket, he took a deep fortifying breath and practically threw himself from the car. The media vultures immediately began squawking at him across the yard.  
  
"Sir, have you heard from the kidnappers?'  
  
"Sir, what is your connection to the boy?"  
  
"Are you the child's father?"  
  
"Is the boy still alive?"  
  
When Broots seemed to hesitate, Jarod grabbed the tech by the arm and dragged him up the steps and onto the porch. The front door opened as the two men approached. Ducking into the safety of the house, they left the chaos of questions behind.  
  
Glancing around the room, Jarod quickly assessed the situation. A uniformed police officer stood at the door and nodded at the two new arrivals. Three men in suits were busily fidgeting with the telephone, connecting a device that would trace incoming calls. A fourth man stood to one side, barking orders into a cell phone. Sitting ramrod straight on the arm of the couch, glaring icily at everyone around her, was a very stressed looking Miss Parker.  
  
The moment her eyes met Jarod's, he could see the fear hiding in those blue depths. Jarod wasn't sure which of them crossed the room faster but they met at the halfway point. Without thought, Jarod threw his arms around her and Parker stepped into his reassuring embrace without hesitation.  
  
"Thank god you've come," Parker hissed, burying her face against Jarod's shoulder.  
  
"Did you doubt that I would?" he murmured against her ear.  
  
"Not for one moment," she replied, squeezing him tightly.  
  
They stood in each other's arms for a long moment. When Parker looked up at Jarod, he could see moisture swimming in her eyes. "Bring my boy home to me, Jarod," she whispered.  
  
Jarod could only nod in response. The confidence he saw in Parker's face was frightening in its intensity. It seemed as though she believed Jarod could magically produce the child from thin air. Jarod was a good P.I., perhaps the best in his field of expertise. But if Jarod had learned anything in the last few years, it was that even the best sometimes loses.  
  
"We all know that Jarod will do everything he can to bring Teddy home safely," a soothing voice chided.  
  
"Sydney!" Jarod held one hand out to the aging psychiatrist while still holding Parker against his chest with the other.  
  
"Hello, Jarod," the older man said as he shook Jarod's hand warmly.  
  
The brief round of greeting was cut short when one of the FBI agents interrupted. "Who is this?" the man with the cell phone asked.  
  
Parker stepped back and glared haughtily at the man. "This is Jarod Lucht," she said coldly. "Jarod, this is Agent Harrison. He's in charge of the investigation."  
  
"I've heard of you Lucht," Agent Harrison said in a clipped tone.  
  
"Good," Jarod said with a nod. "That will make this easier."  
  
Before Agent Harrison could respond, one of the other men approached. "We're all set, Sir," he said.  
  
Harrison turned to Parker and explained, "If the kidnappers call, we need you to keep them talking as long as possible. It will take at least forty- five seconds to get a solid trace on them."  
  
"They won't call," Jarod stated bluntly, earning a frigid glare from the agent.  
  
"How do you know that?" Harrison snarled.  
  
"The don't have the number. The kidnappers didn't set out to take Teddy," Jarod explained. Directing his statements to Parker more than anyone else, he went on. "It wasn't your son they were after. They took a child from a posh private school, not one specific boy. The ransom note was written before the abduction and left at the site. There is no reference to any specific gender of the victim. The kidnapper knew the layout of the museum and how to avoid detection on the surveillance cameras. He studied the location until he could map it out in his sleep." Jarod shrugged. "Then he just sat back and waited for a bunch of spoiled prep school kids to get off a bus. Teddy was chosen at random."  
  
"That's a big assumption to make," Harrison grumped. "What makes you so sure?"  
  
"One hundred K is pocket change," Jarod glanced at Parker briefly for verification. "If the kidnapper had been after Theodore Parker, he could have asked for ten times as much."  
  
"I think your logic is a little thin," Harrison argued.  
  
"It has been my experience that Jarod is usually right," Parker snapped. "I believe him. I want Jarod to take the ransom to the rendezvous point."  
  
"It's a mistake to get a civilian involved in this, Miss Parker," Harrison frowned.  
  
"Jarod knows what he's doing," Parker hissed. "I won't trust anyone else to do this."  
  
Harrison sighed angrily and stomped away with growl.  
  
"Are you sure, Jarod?" Sydney asked with concern.  
  
The pretender nodded. "If the kidnapper had done any research on the Parkers, he would know how dangerous it is to cross this family. There are easier ways to make a hundred grand."  
  
Parker crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "If he hurts my son," she hissed. "I'll castrate him with a pair of tweezers."  
  
"My point exactly," Jarod said in a wry tone. "The unlucky bastard has no idea what he's gotten himself into."  
  
"What do we do now?" Parker asked. Though her voice was strong, Jarod could still detect a trace of vulnerability in her tone.  
  
"We wait," Jarod said simply. "I'd like to see the surveillance tapes from the museum. I want everything they have for the two weeks prior to the incident."  
  
Sydney nodded in understanding. "You think our kidnapper may be on some of the earlier footage."  
  
"I believe our guy spent an inordinate amount of time in the museum getting ready for this. At any rate," Jarod added with a shrug. "It will give us all something to do until noon tomorrow."  
  
"Thank you, Jarod," Parker said in a soft voice.  
  
Patting her arm gently the pretender replied, "Don't thank me until I've brought him home."  
  
--  
  
End Part 2 


	3. Rescue Me

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it. - AUTHOR's NOTE: I have no idea if mug shots are kept electronically these days or not. I would assume that this would be a very useful and efficient way of storing such images. A digital camera and a storage medium would be all that was needed for the legal system to maintain criminal's pictures much more quickly and effectively that in the past. But it is only an assumption on my part.  
  
-  
  
Veil of Contentment - Part 3 - By Phenyx - 04/03/04  
  
-  
  
"There he is again," Jarod murmured in a low dangerous voice as he tapped his index finger on the monitor in front of him. "Rewind the tape to the earlier instance. That was a better image of his face."  
  
"You have no proof that this is our guy," Agent Harrison stated as Broots hit the rewind button. The group had spent the last ten hours skimming through nearly twenty days worth of security footage from the museum.  
  
"That's him," Jarod said confidently. "He is the only regular visitor over the past few weeks fitting the description of our suspect."  
  
"Could be coincidence," Harrison argued.  
  
Jarod sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He was bone tired and his patience was wearing thin. "Look, the guy wandered through that place for hours on no less than six separate occasions in the last fifteen days," he said.  
  
"With a sketchbook," the agent snapped. "Just like a dozen other art students."  
  
"He's not a student," Jarod growled. "No artist worth spit would be drawing with a plain yellow, number two pencil. This guy was casing the joint."  
  
"What do we do now?" Miss Parker asked as she perched on the table beside the monitor.  
  
"We compare this image to a few police databases and hope we get lucky," Jarod said. "This guy may have had trouble with the law before." Looking toward Broots he added, "Lets start with the Blue Cove P.D. Then we'll widen our search to Dover."  
  
"You plan on looking at every mug shot in the state?" Agent Harrison sneered.  
  
"No," Jarod yawned. "I have a program that can compare facial representations and flag possible matches for us. It works much faster and we only have to look at the images the computer marks for us. I usually use it to identify John Doe morgue shots, but this is the same principle."  
  
"Jarod," Sydney chided with concern. "You look exhausted."  
  
The pretender nodded. "It's been a rough week," he admitted wryly. "I'll show Broots how to monitor the program then I'll grab an hour's rest."  
  
Jarod wound up sleeping twice as long as he'd intended. When he woke, he stormed through the livingroom ignoring the officers standing there. Irritated with himself for dallying in bed, the pretender's tongue was much sharper than he realized as he entered the kitchen for a cup of coffee.  
  
"Why didn't you wake me?" he snapped at Sydney.  
  
The older man sitting at the table cradled a mug between his palms. He showed little remorse. "You were tired," Sydney said. "There's nothing to be done until we get a hit on the image search anyway."  
  
Jarod shook his head in resignation as he served himself. "Where's Parker?" he asked after he had sipped for a moment at the hot brew.  
  
"I sent her off to bed right after you," Sydney explained. "She hadn't closed her eyes for a moment since Teddy disappeared. I had to threaten to sedate her."  
  
Jarod nodded as he drank his coffee. "It's natural for her to be upset."  
  
"You are the only reason she has relaxed enough to get some rest," Sydney said. "She has complete confidence in the fact that you will bring the boy back."  
  
Sitting in the chair opposite his old mentor, Jarod sighed. "Nothing like a little pressure to increase the old pretender's performance," he said wryly.  
  
"Do you doubt your abilities, Jarod?" Sydney asked with gentle concern.  
  
Jarod snorted. The sound was so like a Miss Parker scoff that Sydney had to marvel at it. "I am the best P.I. in the business Sydney. No one tackles a missing child case the way I do."  
  
"For obvious reasons," Sydney added.  
  
Jarod paused, gazing thoughtfully into his cup. "But being the best doesn't mean much in this business," he said in a soft voice. "Sometimes a child is dead before anyone even realizes they are missing. I'm not unlike one of those dogs used to sniff at the rubble after a building collapse. It's my job to find the bodies."  
  
"That's a very pessimistic view Jarod," Sydney said. "If the experience is so difficult for you, why continue to do it?"  
  
"I can't give up on them, those still missing," Jarod explained. "A private investigator was hired to find me once. A long, long time ago." Dark brown eyes gazed sadly at the aging psychiatrist. "He gave up. He stopped looking for me. What if he had searched for one more day? What if that one day was all it would have taken to find me?"  
  
"Jarod," Sydney began.  
  
Jarod went on, cutting off Sydney's comment. "Besides, I owe it all those sweet little children who sacrifice their lives to the monsters who abduct them. There are hundreds of them Sydney, every year. Children snatched from playgrounds, school yards, bedrooms," the pretender's voice cracked and he had to inhale deeply to reign in his emotions. "Little boys and girls who are tortured raped and mutilated. The Centre didn't corner the market on cruelty you know."  
  
Sydney nodded solemnly.  
  
"I owe it to them, Sydney," Jarod said, his voice little more than a whisper. "Because I was one of them. I was one of them that lived."  
  
The older man sniffed, very near tears. "I am so sorry, Jarod," he sighed. "I am sorry for the life you were denied. I am sorry for the pain you were forced to endure."  
  
"No, Sydney," Jarod smiled a wavering grin at his old mentor. "Don't apologize. You are the reason I survived. I know that. If not for you I would have been no more than a case number in some file. Another of the woeful little corpses I come across far too often. Without your protection, Raines would have killed me. I'm sure of it. I would have let him." Jarod shook his head as he continued. "I'm the one who is sorry, Sydney. You lost so much because of me; your brother, your son. You lost as many years as I."  
  
"It wasn't your fault," Sydney assured him. "It was not your fault."  
  
For a long moment, the two men gazed at each other across the table. Each realized that this was as close as they would ever get to forgiving one another. Complete forgiveness would probably forever elude them. Regret would gnaw at them all their lives. But at least they could set aside blame.  
  
Sydney stood with his cup and crossed the room toward the coffee pot. As he passed Jarod, he placed one hand on the pretender's shoulder and gave him an affectionate squeeze. In the thirty years they had been together, such displays had been nearly unheard of. There had been the occasional hug in recent years, but those had usually been to mask the passing of some object or message. This simple gesture, unsolicited and without guile, made Jarod's face light up with pure adoration.  
  
"This must all be very difficult for your parents to understand," Sydney said as he poured more coffee into his mug. He held the pot toward Jarod with a questioning glance.  
  
The pretender nodded, offering his cup for a refill. "I've never talked to them about it," Jarod admitted casually.  
  
Sydney frowned in confusion. "How much do they know about those years spent in The Centre?"  
  
"I don't know," Jarod said with a shrug. "Dad has a better idea than Mom. He's seen some of the DSAs. But we've never really discussed it."  
  
Sydney sank back into his seat with a thud. "Don't they want to know where you've been all this time?"  
  
"Well sure," Jarod said. "But what do you suggest I tell them? How do I explain to my mother that Catherine Parker was one of the kindest, most compassionate souls I have ever known? My mother holds Mrs. Parker responsible for kidnapping me. How shall I explain the way I feel about you Sydney? How do I tell my father that hundreds, maybe thousands, of people have died because I wanted to make you proud of me? What can I tell my wife when the woman who pursued me relentlessly for more than six years calls, and I drop everything to answer?"  
  
Jarod shook his head. "No Sydney," he continued. "It is easier this way."  
  
"For now, perhaps," Sydney replied. "But the longer you hide your true self from those you love, the harder it will become."  
  
Jarod frowned at his coffee as he mulled over Sydney's words. He wasn't given much time to think. Mr. Broots burst into the room excitedly.  
  
"We've got a hit," the balding tech gasped.  
  
Jarod scrambled from his chair and was across the room in a flash. "Wake Miss Parker," he ordered.  
  
-  
  
Jarod glanced up at a sky heavy with clouds. The dark gray blanket overhead threatened to burst at any moment. If his plan worked, rain could work in their favor. But if it didn't, he would have to track the kidnapper and a storm would cause more than a few problems.  
  
The hiking trail at Middlefield Park was more of a climbing trail. The path wound up the steep side of an ancient gorge. There had been a mudslide earlier in the season, causing the trail to be closed to the public until it could be properly shored up. As Jarod followed the instructions that had been stapled to the post at the start of the trail, he had been forced to climb over the chain link fence that blocked his way.  
  
Jarod moved up the incline as quickly as he could. He carried only the silver briefcase that held the ransom money. It was amazing how heavy one hundred thousand dollars could be when you tried to jog up a cliff side with it.  
  
Jarod rounded a bend in the trail and found himself on a small plateau overlooking the gorge. It was a stunningly beautiful spot. It would be magnificent in the fall. But Jarod had no time to admire the view.  
  
"Hold it right there," a man's voice demanded.  
  
Jarod stopped immediately, scanning the area with his eyes. He could see no one. A drop of wetness fell from the sky onto Jarod's cheek, causing him to flinch slightly.  
  
"I have the money," the pretender called out.  
  
"Let's see it," the voice came again.  
  
Jarod held the briefcase on his forearm and opened it one handed. Turning the open valise away from him, he turned slowly in all directions to display the contents. He still could not see the suspect.  
  
"Put the case on the ground and go back the way you came," the disembodied voice called.  
  
"No can do," Jarod replied. "I get the boy first."  
  
"Do as I say or you'll get nothing but pieces!" the voice cried. As if to emphasize this point there was an abrupt shriek of a frightened child echoing in the air.  
  
Jarod cautiously placed the briefcase on the ground and took two steps back. "I want the boy," he yelled.  
  
"When I get my money, I'll send him down the trail," was the response.  
  
Slowly reaching into his leather jacket, Jarod pulled a thick manila envelope from his inner pocket. Holding the wad aloft he called, "I can offer you double if you give me the child now."  
  
There was a long pause. "Leave it with the rest," the voice called.  
  
Jarod pulled out his trump card and prayed to God that he wasn't wrong. "Listen Jeff," the pretender called in a friendly tone. "You don't mind if I call you Jeff, do you? Or do you prefer Jeffrey?"  
  
Silence hung in the air as rain began to fall in fat drops.  
  
"I've been hired to bring back the kid and that's what I intend to do," Jarod called in a casual voice. "Now we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. Up to you really." Jarod took two more large steps backward and then very deliberately placed the envelope on the ground. "Two hundred thousand dollars Jeff. Just sitting here waiting for you to come get it."  
  
"You leave," came the voice again.  
  
"Not without the kid," Jarod stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
For a long minute the pretender stood there quietly, watching the tree line as the raindrops increased.  
  
"Look Jeff," Jarod called. "We're just getting wet here. Send the boy to me. We'll go, you'll get your money, and we can all be happy and dry within the hour. What do you say?"  
  
There was another long pause during which the rain began to beat down in chilly sheets. Movement at the edge of the trees about fifty yards away caught Jarod's eye.  
  
A boy dressed in a private school uniform cautiously emerged from the woods. The child had light brown hair and freckles across his nose. He moved in slow methodical steps and as he came closer, Jarod could see the boy's gray eyes were wide with fright.  
  
Parker's voice whispered through Jarod's mind. The warning she had given him earlier repeated clearly, "Teddy's been taught to distrust strangers. You must tell him who you are as soon as possible."  
  
"Hi there, Ted," Jarod said in a calming voice. "My name is Jarod."  
  
The little boy hesitated for a moment, his eyes growing even larger. For a split second, Jarod feared that the child would bolt. A heartbeat later, Teddy did run. He dashed straight toward the pretender, nearly bowling the tall man over when they collided.  
  
Tucking the boy under one arm, Jarod ran down the path, now slick with moisture. Slipping and sliding in the mud, Jarod moved as quickly as he could, trying to get as much distance as possible between him and the kidnapper. He rounded the corner and was forced to slow down as the path became steeper and more narrow.  
  
There was a popping sound from behind followed quickly by a cry of pain.  
  
"What was that?" the little boy asked as he bounced on Jarod's hip.  
  
"Our friend just opened the envelope," Jarod explained. He tried to quicken the pace, but the rain had become a torrential downpour making the path muddy and treacherous.  
  
There was a gunshot and Jarod ducked, nearly slipping as a bullet ricocheted off the rock wall beside him. Rounding another bend in the path, Jarod looked around frantically. They would only be out of sight of their pursuer for a few moments. Looking up, Jarod found sudden inspiration in a stone outcropping just above his head.  
  
"Climb up there Ted," Jarod ordered as he hefted the boy in the air.  
  
The child obediently scrambled onto the ledge. Jarod crouched low trying to gain momentum as he jumped into the air and grabbed the rock shelf. Hauling his body onto the narrow space, Jarod gasped as the sharp rock cut into his palm.  
  
Taking Teddy by the hand, Jarod carefully maneuvered his way along the ledge until he reached the small crevice he had seen from below. The space was small, only big enough for the boy and about half of Jarod's tall frame. But it was enough. The child would be dry and protected from harm by Jarod's body. And the pretender's dark leather jacket would serve as camouflage against the rocks.  
  
Jarod put one finger to his lips in a hushing motion as sounds of exertion reached them. A very displeased voice was grumbling and swearing the most vulgar of oaths as its owner passed not far away. There was a distinctive slosh followed by a splat and a particularly repulsive swear word.  
  
Teddy looked up at Jarod and even in the dark the pretender could see the boy's eyes twinkling mischievously. Placing his hand over the child's mouth, Jarod shook his head and again motioned for quiet. Teddy placed his own little hand over the big one covering his mouth as he tried to stifle a giggle.  
  
The sounds from below began to fade and after a minute or two there was no noise but the rain falling outside the meager shelter.  
  
"We're okay, now, but we'll wait a little longer to be sure it's safe." Jarod said after a few more minutes. "We can talk, but not too loudly."  
  
The child nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry I almost laughed," Teddy said.  
  
Jarod grinned at the little boy. "You have your sister's sense of humor," he said with a chuckle.  
  
"She said you would come," Teddy told him.  
  
"What?" Jarod blinked in surprise.  
  
"Mom said that I should never trust a stranger," Teddy explained. "She said no matter what, she would never send a stranger to come for me and I shouldn't believe anyone who told me any different. Not even a policeman."  
  
Jarod nodded. "Is that why you almost ran away from me earlier?" he asked.  
  
"Oh no," Teddy shook his head. "Mom said that if anything bad ever happened, she would come and get me. She would come or she would send Jarod. No one else."  
  
"Really?" the pretender asked.  
  
"Is she okay?" Teddy asked fearfully. "She's not hurt or anything is she?"  
  
Jarod shook his head. "She's fine, Teddy. She's worried about you, but she's fine."  
  
The boy visibly relaxed, tension slipping from his little shoulders.  
  
"How about you?" Jarod asked. "Are you hurt?"  
  
Teddy shrugged. "My wrists hurt," he said. "He put tape around them for a long time. But mostly I'm just hungry."  
  
"A kindred spirit," Jarod laughed. Rummaging through his pockets was an awkward exercise in the tight quarters but he managed to find a candy bar for the boy.  
  
Jarod watched silently as Teddy devoured the treat. His shoulders were starting to ache due to his hunched position in the crevice. His back was exposed to the rain causing cold shivers down his spine. He was tired and just as hungry as young Teddy. And yet the pretender couldn't help but smile.  
  
This was why Jarod did the job he did. At moments like this, he loved his work and could almost forget the days when he hated it. The look of trust and complete confidence that the boy beamed up at him made Jarod feel ten feet tall.  
  
"What do you say, Ted?" Jarod asked as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Are you ready to go home?"  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
Jarod slipped off his jacket and wrapped it protectively around the little boy before backing out of their hiding spot. Lifting the boy in his arms, Jarod grinned at him as rain began to flatten the fair hair against the small head.  
  
"Do you know what, Ted?" Jarod said. "Sometimes the bad guy loses."  
  
Teddy laughed. "The bad guy always loses Jarod. Sooner or later, the good guys will win."  
  
"Let's get you home."  
  
-  
  
End Part 3 


	4. Lost Dream

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it.  
  
- Author's Note: I don't know much about cars. But when I was very young, my dad had a convertible like the one described in this story. White interior and a six-year-old child were not a good combination, so being permitted to ride in that car with the top down was an incredible treat. Those drives were some of the few fond memories I have of my father. So I don't care what the car is really like. I don't care if the engine is, in reality, a piece of junk. In my mind, the 1964 Mustang convertible is the coolest car ever made.  
  
Veil of Contentment - Part 4  
  
- By Phenyx  
  
- 04/03/04  
  
-  
  
Dawn was just creeping over the horizon as Jarod left the interstate, following the curving exit ramp to the state route that led home. A cool morning breeze blew in through the open window. Jarod had rolled it down the moment he'd climbed back into his car at the airport. It had been dark in the parking lot, wavering on the cusp of daylight so that the overhead lights were blinking out one by one. For a moment, Jarod had struggled to locate his deep blue Toyota among the hundreds of abandoned vehicles lined up on the asphalt. The moment of disorientation had forced Jarod to recognize how weary he was.  
  
He could have stayed in Delaware for the night. Parker had made the offer. After walking Teddy down the hiking trail, Jarod had waited with the boy as they were greeted by police officers. Jarod had done his best to chat the kid up, calming his nerves, while they were both whisked away to the nearest hospital. Parker had met them in the emergency room and it had taken the opinion of two doctors, Sydney and Jarod as well as Teddy's request for a pizza with double pepperoni before she would accept that the child was unhurt.  
  
The pretender had joined the small family for dinner and had enjoyed the experience immensely. It was the first time in his life that he'd eaten a leisurely meal with his ex-pursuers. Watching Parker slurp stringy melted mozzarella from a baked crust had sent the pretender into fits of near hysterical laughter. Greasy pizza and warm beer had never tasted so good.  
  
Teddy complained as loudly as he could around a yawn when Parker took him off to bed. Sydney agreed to stay in the guestroom for a few days. He would provide Teddy with a live-in shrink to help with the inevitable emotional residue of the boy's abduction. Jarod could have crashed on the couch. To be honest, the prospect was tempting. But the pretender was all too aware of his responsibilities elsewhere.  
  
Jarod had said his goodbyes, promising to visit again soon. Though mechanical difficulties had delayed take-off, the actual flight to Florida had been uneventful.  
  
The pretender maneuvered his car around the bend and sighed contentedly as he passed a weather worn barn. The nearly collapsed structure served as a landmark indicating that Jarod was exactly five minutes from his destination. Easing the accelerator a bit closer to the floor, Jarod nudged a little extra speed out of the vehicle and found himself wishing he was in his other car.  
  
This mid-sized four-door was reliable and efficient. It always got Jarod to wherever he was going. There was never any concern about leaving the mundane automobile at the airport's long-term parking lot. It was a good car. Boring, but serviceable, it blended in well with the other cars on the road.  
  
When he wasn't working or driving to the airport, Jarod preferred to drive his 1964 Mustang convertible. Shiny black with a white top to match the leather interior, Jarod's ragtop was one of his favorite toys. The pretender had done a little tweaking on the engine of course. Modern technology had allowed for improvements in both power and efficiency.  
  
Pulling into the long gravel driveway that led to his house, Jarod smiled as an idea began to form. He and Zoë hadn't gone driving for ages. As early as it was, the morning promised to become a beautiful day, a good one for cruising aimlessly. Jarod would catch a few hours sleep and then he and his wife would wander the back roads for the afternoon. They could take turns driving the Mustang and simply enjoy each other's company.  
  
If Zoë insisted, Jarod would agree to take her car instead. The huge red convertible she still owned wasn't as fast or racy as the Mustang, but Zoë adored that car. It didn't really matter which automobile they went driving in, as long as they went together. They had fallen in love on a two-day road-trip. Jarod hoped he could recapture that same magic.  
  
With his plan well set, Jarod slid his Toyota into its place among the other cars parked behind the house. Everyone in residence had at least one car. Jarod and his father each had two. Counting the two motorcycles in the garage, there were no fewer than ten vehicles owned by the entire household. The Major regularly joked that the insurance company should be sending them a personalized thank you card.  
  
Jarod yawned and climbed from the car. Stretching his aching muscles, Jarod took a moment to admire the serenity of early morning. Dew sparkled on the grass and birds sang merrily in the trees. The sky was a deep crystal blue color with not a cloud in sight. Inhaling the scent of fresh air and grass, the pretender gazed up at his home.  
  
It felt strange at times, almost surreal. Everything he had ever hoped for, every wish he'd made was inside this three story rambling house with its Queen Anne architecture. At moments like this, when Jarod was happy and content, he sometimes felt as though he was dreaming it all. As if, at any moment, he would wake up and find himself locked in his cell back at The Centre.  
  
Shaking away his dark thoughts, Jarod retrieved his bag from the trunk and headed for the house. He unlocked the back door, not bothering to be quiet about it. Renovations done to the building right after he'd bought it had essentially created two separate wings within the house, one for himself and Zoë, the other for his family. Only the kitchen and the den connected the two dwellings, like an umbilical between homes.  
  
Jarod had designed the layout when he had learned, very shortly after moving in, that he and his wife required privacy. During the early days of their marriage, the perceived solitude had allowed the newlyweds to explore each other, as newly married couples tend to do. More recently, it had given them the opportunity to argue without interruption.  
  
Jarod kicked his boots off in the mudroom and continued through to the laundry. He tossed his bag of soiled clothes on top of the washing machine and peeled off his shirt, replacing it with a clean one from the dryer. He ran a hand through his hair and decided he would take a shower later.  
  
With a yawn, Jarod ambled back the way he had come, headed for the main part of the house. In his socks, he made no sound. In one hand he carried his jacket, intending to hang the garment up before he went to bed.  
  
The pretender took two silent steps into the kitchen and froze. He stood there, stunned into stupidity at the sight that greeted him. Zoë was leaning against the counter, dressed only in one of Jarod's silk dress shirts. Her hair was in disarray as though she just gotten out of bed and she was smiling seductively at the lean blonde man who stood before her.  
  
The man was tall, nearly Jarod's height, with broad shoulders and deeply tanned skin. His hair was long, nearly to his shoulder blades and pulled back into a neat ponytail. The stranger was smiling gleefully as he lifted Zoë onto the counter top and kissed her deeply.  
  
Jarod's throat clicked as he swallowed hard and found his voice. "Who the hell are you and why are you sucking on my wife's face?" the pretender asked in a surprisingly calm voice.  
  
The reactions of Zoë and her companion were classic. The man flinched away as though Zoë had suddenly become a scalding thing. Zoë yelped in surprise and she stared at Jarod with wide fearful eyes.  
  
The blonde held his hands in front of him as he backed toward the far door. "Now, lets all stay calm here," he stuttered.  
  
"Calm?" Jarod asked, raising one eyebrow curiously. "Do you see any reason why I should stay calm?" Taking a menacing step forward, Jarod glared at the man.  
  
"Jarod!" Zoë cried. She hopped off the counter and placed herself in her husband's path, one dainty palm against the pretender's broad chest. "You'd better go, Cal," she said over her shoulder.  
  
The blonde needed no second urging. He promptly turned on his heel and fled.  
  
"Nice," Jarod taunted. "He just up and leaves you to face the jilted hubby all on your own, eh? Chivalry is dead."  
  
Zoë's eyes narrowed angrily. "Don't get all high and mighty about this, Jarod. That would be too hypocritical even for you."  
  
"What?" Jarod blinked at her. He knew he should be angry. The rage was undoubtedly inside him somewhere, but right now the pretender couldn't seem to find it. For the moment, all he felt was confusion.  
  
"Did you think you could bang your girlfriend whenever you liked and I would just sit here and wait for you?" Zoë hissed viciously.  
  
"I don't have a girlfriend," Jarod said as slowly and distinctly as possible.  
  
Crossing her arms over her chest, Zoë made a scoffing sound. "Where have you been for the last forty-eight hours? With Susan," she said, answering her own question.  
  
"No," Jarod cried. "I never," the sentence stopped, hanging unfinished in the air. The pretender abruptly realized that his wife didn't trust him and probably never had. It wouldn't matter what he said or did right now. Their marriage was over. He could live with her not trusting him. He would have spent a lifetime proving himself worthy of her. But now, he would never trust her again. And Jarod simply could not love what he did not trust.  
  
"I want a divorce." When Zoë said the words, Jarod was not surprised to hear them. His shoulders slumped and he sighed as the magnitude of his failure began to dawn on him. He nodded in acceptance.  
  
Zoë sat down at the kitchen table. "We'll sue on grounds of infidelity. I don't want the house, but I'll need a lump settlement to get started on my own again."  
  
"No," Jarod whispered.  
  
"What?" Zoë's head snapped up and she glared angrily at him.  
  
"I'll give you whatever you want," Jarod said. "But you won't get it because of my infidelity. I never broke my promise to you. I kept my marriage vows and I will not sign paperwork that claims I was unfaithful. It isn't true."  
  
Zoë stood slowly, her body trembling with rage. "You self-righteous son-of- a-bitch!" she screamed. "How dare you lay this at my feet!"  
  
"I never slept with Susan!" Jarod roared back.  
  
"Liar!" Zoë yelled.  
  
With a sigh of resignation, Jarod ran one hand through his hair. "I'm too tired to fight about this Zoë," he said. "You'll get what you want. There's no point in yelling about it anymore."  
  
Turning his back on the frustrated redhead, Jarod crossed the kitchen and left through the swinging door that led to the rest of the house. In the hallway, he nearly bumped into his mortified mother. It was obvious that she had heard at least some of the argument.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jarod," she said gently.  
  
The pretender shrugged. "We're getting divorced," he said.  
  
Opening her arms, Margaret pulled her eldest son into a reassuring embrace. Jarod leaned his head against his mother's crown and allowed her to comfort him. "There was another man here," Jarod murmured sadly.  
  
"I know," Margaret replied. She felt her son stiffen in her arms. Jarod pulled away slightly and gazed down at his mother. Margaret watched in concern as emotions flittered across her son's face.  
  
In the years since they had been reunited, Margaret had learned that her son wore his feelings very close to the surface. But the thoughts those emotions provoked were always very well guarded. Jarod was a warm, caring and outgoing man but there had always been a part of him that Margaret had been unable to understand. It was this unfathomable side of her son that stared at Margaret now.  
  
"How?" Jarod asked. At his mother's puzzled frown, Jarod elaborated. "How did you know there had been a man here?"  
  
Margaret glanced away, embarrassed for her child. "He's been hanging around for a while," she admitted.  
  
"Hanging around?" Jarod repeated. Stepping back he felt his hands clench into fists at his side. "For how long?"  
  
Margaret shrugged. "A couple of months I guess," she said.  
  
Jarod gasped. Pain knifed through his chest leaving a burning trail. Behind it came the anger he'd been missing earlier. Some vicious black part of his psyche made him laugh coldly as he realized that the real world was back. The dream had ended and Jarod was alone again.  
  
The pretender turned away wordlessly, unaware of the anguish on his face. He walked like an automaton back to the kitchen, passed his quietly weeping, soon to be ex-wife. He slipped his jacket over his shoulders and stopped at the back door to stomp his boots onto his feet.  
  
"Jarod," his mother began. She had followed him, unable to recognize the reason for his sudden despair.  
  
"Don't," Jarod hissed. "I don't want to hear it." He looked over at his mother, his cheeks now wet with scalding tears. "You should have told me," he said in a voice wavering in agony.  
  
"I didn't want to hurt you Jarod. I was trying to protect you," she said. "I did what I thought was best."  
  
The searing knife in Jarod's heart twisted and the pretender lashed out in self-defense. "Amazing," he sneered. "That's exactly what Mr. Parker always told his daughter. But it was nothing but lies. Secrets and lies is all you've ever offered us. The one constant in my life."  
  
Margaret gasped. "Jarod, no."  
  
"Withholding the truth is the same as lying," Jarod grimaced. "I've had enough lies to last a hundred lifetimes." Turning abruptly, he yanked open the door with enough force to rattle the hinges.  
  
"Wait," his mother cried, placing one hand on her son's arm to stop him.  
  
The pretender flinched. "Let me go," he growled in a low dangerous voice.  
  
Snatching her hand back, Margaret asked tremulously. "When will you be coming back?"  
  
"I won't." Without another word, Jarod slammed out of the house, leaving his mother to stare after him in horror. A moment later, there was the squeal of tires and spewing gravel as a car raced away from the house.  
  
--  
  
Parker eased her gun from its hiding place in a locked drawer of her bureau. For Teddy's sake, the weapon was usually carefully hidden away and well secured. But when someone had started pounding on the front door, Parker had quickly retrieved her pistol. It was after one o'clock in the morning. Having visitors at this hour was never a good sign.  
  
As she padded through the dark house, she tried to listen for intruders. But outside the rain had returned, muffling any small sound that may have been inside the house. Lightning flashed and Parker nearly cried out when she saw the shadowy figure to her left.  
  
"It's only me," Sydney's calm voice spoke before she had the chance to shoot him. The psychiatrist had decided to spend a second night in the guestroom. Parker was now very glad that he had done so.  
  
They both jumped when three loud knocks reverberated through the house. Someone was outside, banging on the doorframe. With her gun firmly clasped in one hand, Parker tiptoed up to the door and peered through the peephole.  
  
Blinking in surprise, she glanced at Sydney before Parker clicked the safety on and unlocked the deadbolt. Throwing open the door revealed a very wet and miserable looking pretender on the front porch.  
  
"Jarod!" Miss Parker exclaimed. "Did you forget something?"  
  
"May I come in?" he asked in a flat, dull voice.  
  
Nodding, Parker stepped back and waved Jarod into the warmth of the house. "Sydney, get us some towels," she called over her shoulder.  
  
Jarod stood in the foyer, dripping rainwater onto the hardwood floor and looking much like a drowned rat.  
  
"Are you okay?" Parker asked perceptively.  
  
The pretender stared at the tip of his shoes and slowly shook his head.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" she tried.  
  
"Not yet," Jarod whispered.  
  
Sydney reappeared and offered the pretender two fluffy cotton towels. Jarod held them in his hands for a moment, staring at them as though he wasn't quite sure what they were for.  
  
"Jarod, what's happened?" Sydney asked.  
  
Dark eyes filled with moisture as Jarod gazed from one worried face to the other. Lower lip trembling, the pretender gasped and said, "I ran away from home." A huge sob tore from his throat, as though it had been held back for too long.  
  
"I ran away."  
  
--  
  
End part 4 


	5. The morning after

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it.  
  
- Author's Note: I've been really busy at work as well as taking a class at a nearby college. But now the class has ended and the quarterly reports are all done (and I made my deadline – yippee!). My stress level has dropped dramatically and I now have the time to return to my favorite hobby... writing. Many thanks to all for your patience. And no, e , I don't ever get tired of reviews.  
  
Veil of Contentment - Part 5  
  
- By Phenyx  
  
- 04/12/04  
  
-  
  
Jarod opened his eyes and woke up. He wasn't startled into consciousness nor did he wake with the spastic jerking gasp that often roused him. He was simply asleep one moment and awake the next.  
  
The pretender blinked and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Rolling his head lazily to one side, he yawned and snuggled deeper into the cushions of the couch on which he was lying. The room was dimly lit due to the thick curtains drawn across the windows. Jarod could see daylight at the edges of the draperies. Teddy was sitting on the floor a few feet away, quietly coloring on a large sheet of paper that covered most of the coffee table.  
  
"Morning Ted," Jarod drawled.  
  
The little boy looked up with a wry grin. "Not any more," he said. "It's way past lunchtime."  
  
"Really?" Jarod asked. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, the pretender was surprised to find that it was well after three o'clock in the afternoon. "Good grief. I've been asleep for nearly fourteen hours."  
  
"You were tired," Parker's voice purred. Craning his neck, Jarod looked over his shoulder to find Parker standing in the doorway. She was dressed in typical Saturday afternoon fashion with well-worn jeans and a simple blouse. "Are you hungry?" she asked.  
  
"Starved," Jarod rolled his eyes as he sat up and stretched.  
  
Parker nodded and said, "You go wash up while I fix us all a snack."  
  
"Parker?" Jarod asked in a chagrined voice. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra toothbrush around would you?"  
  
Miss Parker eyed the pretender warily, crossing her arms over her chest. "Left in a hurry did you?"  
  
Jarod shrugged. "The decision to relocate was made rather abruptly I am afraid," he explained.  
  
"Look in the closet in my bathroom," she said. "I'll ask Sydney if he has a clean shirt you could wear."  
  
"It won't fit," Jarod argued.  
  
Miss Parker nodded in agreement. "It will be a little tight. But beggars can't be choosers, Rat."  
  
With a grimace of resignation, Jarod headed down the hallway as instructed. He showered quickly and cleaned his teeth. He gave serious consideration to shaving, but decided against it. The only razor in Parker's bathroom was a delicate pink handled thing and the pretender just wasn't sure it would serve his purpose.  
  
Finding a plain white undershirt hanging on the outer knob of the bathroom door, Jarod slipped it over his head. The shirt was barely long enough to tuck the edges into his jeans. Yet the other dimensions were just too small, making the shirt cling tightly to his damp body like a second skin. The contours of his chest and abdomen were garishly apparent, leaving nothing to the imagination. Even his nipples were outlined, giving Jarod an uncomfortable feeling of exposure.  
  
As he passed through the livingroom, Jarod grabbed his leather jacket from the chair he had tossed it on last night. He shrugged into the coat and zipped it up halfway to provide some measure of cover. A sudden wave of depression washed over Jarod as it occurred to him that he was practically destitute. Aside from the Mustang parked in Miss Parker's driveway, Jarod had little more than the clothes on his back, and half of those were borrowed.  
  
Jarod padded barefoot into the kitchen, a dark scowl marring his face. Parker was already there, ladling soup into four bowls on the table. Throwing one leg over the back of the chair, Jarod thudded into his seat and glared at the china before him.  
  
"Did you find a toothbrush?" Parker asked.  
  
"Yes," Jarod said. With a sigh, he tried to shrug off his sour mood. "Thank you."  
  
Teddy came bounding into the room with Sydney close on his heels. "My hands are washed Mama," the boy chirped. "Can I eat now?"  
  
Parker gestured toward a chair in response and placed a bowl in front of the child. Sydney also sat down, unfolding a napkin and placing it on his lap.  
  
"Thank you for the shirt, Sydney," Jarod said as he plucked a slice of bread from the center of the table. "I'll need to go out and get some clothes this afternoon."  
  
"We have plenty of your things in storage," Sydney volunteered.  
  
Jarod blinked in surprise. "What kind of things?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Just about anything you might need," Sydney said. "Clothes, linens, even toiletries."  
  
Parker lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "We kept everything you ever left behind you know," she explained. "We figured that it all meant something."  
  
"It did," Jarod said slowly. "But when the Centre's power base fell, I assumed you'd gotten rid of all that stuff."  
  
"Never quite got around to it," Parker admitted. "Besides," she continued. "It wasn't mine to throw away."  
  
Jarod swallowed and stared at this soup. He was oddly touched that Parker considered him to still be the owner of things he had abandoned so many years ago. What may have seemed like a lot of junk to some people was in reality, the symbolic representation of Jarod's journey toward freedom. Those things had indeed all carried some meaning, some message he had tried to convey. That Miss Parker had understood that fact, and still honored it, affected the troubled pretender deeply.  
  
"After we eat, we'll all head up to the Centre," Parker said. "I haven't been to the office for days and I wanted to go in and check my email this afternoon anyway. You can take the opportunity to decide what things you would like to keep and what we can dispose of."  
  
Jarod grinned wryly. "I'm a notorious packrat, Parker."  
  
"So I had noticed," she said, rolling her eyes.  
  
A little over an hour later, Jarod found himself riding in the back seat of Miss Parker's car watching with trepidation as the ominous stone façade of the Centre loomed in the distance. Teddy squirmed with excitement in the seat to Jarod's left. Being permitted to accompany his adopted mother in to the office was a rare privilege.  
  
As the car glided into a reserved parking space, Jarod tried a few deep, calming breaths. The group left the vehicle and began to climb the stone steps toward the front entrance. Jarod was hanging back a few paces, nervously wiping his sweating palms on his jeans.  
  
Parker noticed his discomfort of course, and smiled reassuringly as she pulled open the glass doors.  
  
"No one will harm you, Jarod," Sydney said gently. "There is nothing to be afraid of anymore."  
  
Jarod nodded, a frown furrowing his brow. "I know," he replied.  
  
"But what your head knows, and what your instincts are telling you are two completely different things, eh?" Parker interjected.  
  
"My instincts are telling me to make a run for it," Jarod said with a false brightness.  
  
They stepped across the threshold and into the cool dimness of the Centre. Jarod felt as though the sun and been taken from him once again.  
  
"You can't run forever," Parker murmured softly.  
  
"Can't I?" the pretender snapped back, more harshly than he had intended.  
  
"I'll be in my office for at least two hours," Parker said, ignoring the pretender's ire. Without further comment, she took her son by the hand and strode off down the corridor.  
  
Sydney had patients to look in on, psychiatric cases that he had been forced to neglect over the last few days in favor of his personal ties. Not that these inmates had suffered any in Sydney's absence. The Centre now had a care giving function, quickly becoming a hospital of high repute. As they headed for the storage levels, Jarod had seen several of the residents, Angelo among them, enjoying the fresh air in a garden designed for that purpose. Many poor souls who had spent years confined in the Centre's darkest rooms were finally getting the treatment they would need to ease them into the real world.  
  
Jarod's ex-mentor led him to a room on SL-22. Large metal trunks lined the walls, stacked three deep. The room itself was not overly large, and yet it wasn't small either. Though the area had a markedly unused feel to it, the room was obviously well kept and cleaned regularly. There wasn't the dust or mustiness one would expect in a subterranean storage area.  
  
"Each case is numbered," Sydney explained as he took a metal clipboard from a hook on the wall. "Everything has been inventoried on this list." He handed the sheaf of papers to Jarod. "I'll come back in a few hours but feel free to come find me if you finish before then." With that said, Sydney turned and left the room, leaving Jarod to gaze about him in mild wonder.  
  
Ignoring the specific documentation he'd been given, Jarod chose a box at random and heaved it from its place. He slid the box toward the middle of the room where there was plenty of available space. The pretender lifted the hasps and pulled open the lid, frowning a little at the slight hiss of sound that escaped in the process. The trunk had an airtight seal, providing maximum protection for its contents.  
  
Jarod immediately burst into delighted laughter. A bulging-eyed monster of plaster and foam stared up at him. "Hello, Igor," the pretender murmured. With one long finger, Jarod traced the grotesque features of the oversized contraption then poked it firmly in the chest. But Igor was silent, his batteries having run dead long ago.  
  
Turning toward another trunk, Jarod set about his task.  
  
When Miss Parker came for him several hours later, she found Jarod sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by red notebooks. Every single trunk had been opened and the room was a jumbled mess. The pretender was staring off into space, a million miles away, with a red folder clutched to his chest.  
  
"Jarod?" she called softly. Kneeling carefully at his side so as not to startle him, Parker tried again, "Jarod?"  
  
"Everything I ever left behind, everything I ever mailed to the Centre," he said. "It is all here."  
  
"Yes," Parker answered.  
  
"But the things I sent to your house are missing," Jarod observed. There was no recrimination in his voice, just the flatness of stating fact.  
  
Pushing aside a handful of notebooks, Parker made a spot for herself on the floor and sat down. "Those were gifts sent to me," she explained. "They were not meant for anyone else. It was no one else's business."  
  
Jarod turned to her with a frown. "You didn't tell anyone about them?" he asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Not even Sydney?"  
  
Parker shook her head solemnly.  
  
"Why?" Jarod asked.  
  
"I doubt it would have gone over well with my father," Parker answered with a wry grin. "You sent me jewelry for crying out loud."  
  
The pretender tilted his head curiously. "Does it matter what I sent?" he persisted.  
  
"Yes. It mattered," Parker sighed. "My grandmother's ring, the stained glass artwork, the letters from my mother, they were all very special. I could never betray the fact that you had sent them to me."  
  
Jarod shook his head, sad laughter bubbling from him. "Of all the people in my life, Miss Parker, you alone have never betrayed me. We may not have always been on the same side of the fight, but I could always trust you to react the way I knew you would."  
  
"I've always said that you knew me too well," Parker chided. Picking up one of the notebooks from the clutter, Parker eyed it nonchalantly as she went on. "Trust is not easily given for us. Once lost, it doesn't come back."  
  
"No," Jarod whispered in anguish.  
  
It wasn't difficult for Miss Parker to read the signs of Jarod's distress. He was hurting. The pretender wore his pain like a shroud. Someone close to him had suddenly brought bitter disappointment to Jarod's life. Parker had little trouble guessing who that someone had been.  
  
"What has she done?" Parker pried.  
  
Jarod sighed in resignation. "There's another man," he said simply. "If I had gotten home a few minutes earlier I would no doubt have caught them in my bed."  
  
Parker shook her head. She felt a swirl of emotions twisting within her. Parker wasn't sure which was stronger, the anger that made her want to strangle Jarod's wife, or pity that the girl would never understand what she had lost. "I'm sorry, Jarod," Parker whispered.  
  
"Why?" Jarod replied. "It wasn't your fault. I never should have married her." The pretender's voice took on a self-recriminating tone. "I thought that was what normal people did. Buy a house, find a job, get married. I just wanted a normal life, you know?"  
  
"More than forty percent of all marriages in this country end in court," Parker noted. "Maybe you're a lot closer to normal than you realize."  
  
The two of them sat in silence for a time, staring at the chaos around them.  
  
"My mother knew," Jarod said abruptly. "Hell, the entire family probably knew. My mother said that Zoë wasn't being particularly discrete about the affair."  
  
Parker glared at Jarod knowingly. "She knew and didn't tell you about it?"  
  
Jarod nodded his head slowly.  
  
"Shit," the explicative rolled off Parker's tongue with such vehemence that it made the pretender flinch.  
  
"She lied to me, Parker," Jarod said in a small trembling voice.  
  
Parker sighed. "What was your mother supposed to do? It can't be easy to just blurt something like that out." She tilted her head and began to mimic his mother in a singsong voice. "Oh by the way dear, your beloved wife was boinking the gardener while you were away. He's really been neglecting the rose bushes in the front yard."  
  
"He's been too busy tending Zoë's bushes," Jarod commented dryly.  
  
They looked at each other for a moment, both wide eyed at the crudeness of their comments. Then as if on cue, the two burst into laughter. They cackled hysterically until tears were running down their cheeks and they were both gasping for air.  
  
"This really isn't funny," Parker wheezed.  
  
"Yes it is," Jarod chortled, sobering slowly. "If anyone had told me six years ago that I would be discussing my disastrous love life within the bowels of the Centre, I'd have said they were nuts." He wiped the moisture from his cheeks. "And with you of all people!"  
  
"Hey!" Parker scolded him. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Ann Landers you are not," Jarod said, crumbling into another fit of cathartic laughter. Once the pretender had calmed down, he gathered several of the notebooks lying about him and began to stack them neatly. "Thank you Miss Parker," he sighed.  
  
"For what? I haven't done anything," she replied.  
  
"Yes you did," Jarod said, turning his dark gaze on her. "You let me in. When I showed up on your doorstep last night, you didn't turn me away."  
  
"Did you think I would?" Parker asked, her calm voice concealing a sudden stab of hurt.  
  
Jarod shrugged. "No. I wasn't thinking at all really. I just hopped in my car and started driving. I didn't realize that I was headed for Delaware until I rang your doorbell." He smiled sadly.  
  
An uncomfortable silence fell. Neither was willing to give voice to what they were both thinking. In the last few days, each had been faced with a traumatic episode in their lives. Despite years of separation, they had turned unquestioningly to the one person they had always trusted.  
  
Parker squirmed uneasily and stood up. They were treading on dangerous ground. She and Jarod were both survivors, repeatedly clawing their way through the past that haunted them. Indomitable spirit and raw determination had seen them each through horrific times. For two such independent souls, it was difficult to admit that the stubbornness that had kept them alive was in part based on the connection between them.  
  
"Well," Parker cleared her throat. "It's getting late. We need to get Teddy home."  
  
Jarod followed suit and let the prior conversation drop. He stood and brushed the nonexistent dirt from the seat of his pants. "I've found some things I'd like to take with me," he said.  
  
"Hurry it up then," Parker said in a clipped voice.  
  
The pretender gathered items into two large bundles, skillfully cinching them together into an easy to transport package. "Can we stop on the way back for some burgers?" he asked. "I'm starved."  
  
"God," Parker rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Are you a bottomless pit or do you just want to annoy me?"  
  
"Both," Jarod grinned.  
  
"I suppose you want ice cream as well," Parker moaned.  
  
With a devilish gleam in his eye, Jarod smiled. "Would you find that annoying?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she growled in response.  
  
"Then I definitely want ice cream," Jarod snickered. "Ice cream is always a good idea."  
  
The awkwardness of a few moments ago was forgotten as the two made their way into the hallway. They bickered playfully all the way to Sydney's office where they found the older man watching Teddy type "important" messages on the computer.  
  
"Let's go men," Parker called to them. "Jarod is buying us dinner."  
  
-  
  
End part 5. 


	6. Living Again

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it.  
  
-  
  
Veil of Contentment - Part 6  
  
- By Phenyx  
  
- 04/24/04  
  
-  
  
Life took on a comfortable routine. Parker and Sydney both returned to work on Monday. That evening, the psychiatrist moved out of the guestroom and back to his own home. Jarod quietly shifted his things into the available quarters, although he tended to sleep on the couch more often than not.  
  
Each morning when Parker left the house, Jarod would be sitting in the livingroom watching CNN. When Parker returned at dusk each day, he was in the same position, giving little indication that he had moved from the spot. He had of course. In a hundred subtle ways, Parker could tell that Jarod managed to find ways to keep occupied during the day.  
  
Dinner was almost always simmering on the stove when Parker came home with Teddy. The house was sometimes clean, smelling of lemony polish, on days when the service was not scheduled to have visited. One day last week, Parker had pulled into the driveway and noticed that all the trim on the garage had been painted a deep emerald green color.  
  
One day, about two weeks after Jarod had moved in, Parker woke to find a note on top of the coffee machine. "Gone to Chicago after one of my kids," the brief message said in the pretender's distinctive script. He'd been gone for a day and a half. Miss Parker had felt his absence more acutely than she wanted to admit. The house seemed duller somehow, less vibrant, without Jarod's presence.  
  
Parker had been inordinately pleased the next evening when she returned from work and found the dark Mustang parked in the driveway. Dressed in a plain white t-shirt and soft blue jeans, Jarod had been sprawled lazily on the couch flipping through channels on the television. Parker had not asked him about the trip and Jarod had volunteered nothing more than a dry "Dead end."  
  
It was easy. The pretender slipped back into Parker's life as though he'd never been gone. On nights when Parker couldn't sleep, she would glide soundlessly through the house, never failing to find Jarod lurking in the shadows. It was almost as if he could sense her restlessness and was waiting patiently for her to seek him out.  
  
"The nightmares will never really go away," he said solemnly on one such night. They sat in the dark for a long time, curled in opposite corners of the couch. Jarod wore his regular nighttime attire, only the jeans he had been wearing that day. Parker snuggled into her robe, saying nothing.  
  
There were few words exchanged between them during these predawn vigils. It was enough that they were no longer alone. They each found solace in the presence of the other, no longer needing a cell phone to find that connection.  
  
Parker quickly noticed that Teddy was also forging a special bond with the tall dark man that had invaded their lives. She would see them at times, from a distance, standing in the yard or waiting in the car. Jarod's dark head bent seriously in conversation with the boy as Teddy gazed up at the pretender intently.  
  
When Parker asked about these solemn encounters, Jarod would say only, "It was a conversation between men."  
  
Knowing Jarod's cryptic nature only too well, Parker's curiosity forced her to ask her son instead. "You like Jarod, don't you kiddo?" she asked as she tucked him into bed one night.  
  
"Yeah," the boy's eyes sparkled. "Jarod is cool. He knows all about fireworks."  
  
Parker couldn't help but smile at what constituted a seven-year-olds idea of hip. "Is that what you two were talking about when I came into the kitchen this morning?" she asked, seeing the opportunity.  
  
"No," Teddy frowned.  
  
Stretching out on the bed beside the child, Parker caressed his hair lovingly. "Well, it seemed like a very important discussion," she said.  
  
"Uh-huh," the boy nodded. "But Jarod said I shouldn't say anything unless you ask me."  
  
Now it was Parker's turn to frown. She didn't like the idea that Jarod was keeping secrets with her son. "I'm asking, Theodore," she said in a firm but gentle voice.  
  
"That man, Jeffrey Duncan, won't take the plead bargain." Wide innocent eyes glanced up at Parker inquisitively. "Do you know what a plead bargain is Mama?"  
  
Parker nodded. "The word is plea bargain," she corrected, a little stunned. "No 'd'."  
  
"Anyway, Jarod thinks that man won't take the plea bargain. So I may have to go to court and tell a lot of people what happened at the museum," Teddy said.  
  
"Does that scare you?" Parker asked.  
  
"Not anymore," the boy said seriously. "Jarod says that a man has to take 'sponsibility for what happens to him. Good or bad, what happens to us makes us who we are. The hard part is to take the bad stuff we know and use it to help other people."  
  
Parker struggled against the huge lump in her throat. It took all her restraint to keep from bursting into tears.  
  
Teddy went on, unaware of his mother's emotions. "If I have to go talk to a judge and a bunch of people, I will. That's what needs to be done. 'Cause if I don't, that man won't go to jail and he may hurt someone else, maybe hurt them worse than he did me."  
  
Parker sniffed. "You and Jarod have talked about this a great deal, haven't you?" she asked.  
  
"I guess so," the little boy said with a yawn. "But we talk about lots of stuff. Did you know that if you suck ginger-ale up your nose it hurts really bad?"  
  
Parker had to laugh. Hugging her adopted son, she bid him good night. She eased the bedroom door closed, leaving it ajar just enough for the hall light to provide the boy with some reassurance.  
  
Then she went looking for Jarod. Parker found him in the dining room. He was sitting at the head of the table, his laptop open in front of him. He was, no doubt, scanning the internet for possible leads on missing children. There were at least a dozen unsolved cases that he'd been assigned, and still followed, though he'd not contacted the detective agency in nearly two months.  
  
Parker rested against the edge of the table, positioning herself very close to the computer keyboard. She smiled fondly as she watched the pretender's long fingers dance over the keys. After a moment, Jarod looked up at her expectantly.  
  
Without thought, without hesitation, Parker bent at the waist, leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Jarod's brows shot up and his eyes grew wide with shock.  
  
"What was that for?" he asked in amusement.  
  
Cupping the pretender's face in her palms, Parker tilted his chin up so that he could not look away. "You are a good man," she said fervently. She shook him gently for emphasis. "A very good man."  
  
Jarod smiled crookedly at her. "I'm going to remember you said that," he purred.  
  
Parker pressed her forehead against his. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" she whispered.  
  
"You kissed me," came the feather soft reply, murmured as quietly as a prayer.  
  
"I'll kiss you again if you'd like," she told him.  
  
The pretender made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "If I weren't a married man, Parker, I would take you up on that," he growled.  
  
"It doesn't matter to me that you're married, you know," Parker chuckled.  
  
"I know. But it matters to me," Jarod replied. "And I believe you would probably think less of me if I broke a promise, any promise."  
  
"Like I said," Parker cooed. She pulled away, tenderly caressing Jarod's cheek as the distance between them grew. "You are a good man."  
  
And just like that, it was over. Jarod watched in awestruck wonder as Parker smiled once more before she turned and left the room. Jarod shook his head and fought the sudden urge to pound his head against his keyboard.  
  
"Idiot," he hissed to himself.  
  
-  
  
End part 6 


	7. Found

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it.  
  
-  
  
Veil of Contentment - Part 7  
  
- By Phenyx  
  
- 04/27/04  
  
-  
  
Parker stirred as she felt the mattress dip. A weight, large and warm, perched on the bed beside her.  
  
"Parker," Jarod's deep voice purred. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Hmm," she sighed. "Much better."  
  
The migraine had struck at about 9:30 this morning, right in the middle of a meeting with a group of accountants. Parker had managed to struggle through the agenda but within an hour, she'd begun to see spots. There were no longer any glowering rivals within the Centre's infrastructure so, with nothing to prove to anyone, Parker had no reason not to go home for the day.  
  
Unable to drive, Parker had called for Jarod to come fetch her. She could have simply ordered up a driver and ridden home in a limo. But having someone to call had just felt so damn good. Near tears from the stabbing pain, Parker had been barely able to dial the phone.  
  
"I'll be there in ten minutes," Jarod told her. Parker could hear the concern in his voice, the empathy she knew he had for her pain. Yet beneath it, layered under the worry, had been a distinct note of pride. Yes, having someone to call felt good for them both.  
  
Jarod had come. He had immediately given her two tablets then scooped her up in a gentle embrace. Without regard for the looks he got from the other employees, Jarod carried Miss Parker to the car and rushed her home. Once there, Jarod demonstrated exactly how convenient it was to have a pretender in residence. He tenderly slipped Parker out of her high heels and suit, leaving her in only her slip and panties. He put her in bed on her stomach and lit a strange smelling candle. Not quite mint, but Parker was in no condition to bother identifying the scent.  
  
Miss Parker then received one of the most wonderful massages she had ever had. Jarod had begun rubbing her neck, working his fingers through her hair to massage her crown. He kneaded her shoulders and her back, down her biceps and arms. The pretender paid special attention to her hands, finding pressure points between the fingers. By the time Jarod had begun to rub the muscles in her calves, Parker had fallen asleep. Long after she had drifted off, Jarod continued his ministrations, firmly working the arches of her feet and even her toes.  
  
Now, stretching like a cat, Parker rolled over and dreamily smiled up at the pretender.  
  
"Are you okay?" Jarod rephrased his question, just to be sure.  
  
"Oh yes," she replied. "I'll be fine now."  
  
Jarod nodded. "Good. I wanted to know you were alright before I left," he explained.  
  
"Where are you headed?" Parker asked only half curious.  
  
"Someone has to pick Teddy up from school," he answered with a smirk. With an affectionate pat on Parker's hip, Jarod stood and left the room.  
  
Parker stretched again, sighed then threw back the blanket that covered her. Feeling reenergized and perfectly alert, she quickly shed her silk lingerie and donned blue jeans and a T-shirt. Parker ran a comb through her hair and took a moment to examine her reflection. The image that stared back at her was totally content. One might even say she looked happy.  
  
"Be careful Parker," she murmured to herself seriously. "You could get used to this."  
  
Parker was only too aware that Jarod was in hiding. He was essentially running from his problems. Sheltered here in Delaware, in probably the last place his parents would think to look, Jarod was avoiding the life he'd built in the Sunshine State.  
  
One day, Parker knew, her old friend would stop running. Jarod would eventually face the music and return to his other life. He would learn to forgive his mother, though it was unlikely that the pretender would ever forget the incident. Someday the time would come when Jarod would need to go back to where he belonged.  
  
The problem was that the pretender seemed to belong here quite nicely.  
  
Standing there in the middle of her room, Parker felt the cold harshness of reality strike. Jarod wasn't hers to keep. He could leave at anytime, without warning. He could even leave today if the urge came to do so. The niggling thought swelled and pierced her heart with the force of premonition. It was not a matter of 'if' Jarod would go back to Florida, but 'when'.  
  
Jarod would go and there wasn't a damn thing Parker could do about it. Trying to keep him from that other life would be like holding on to mercury. The harder she tried to hang on to him, the more quickly Jarod would slip through her fingers.  
  
Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Parker sighed. There was no point dwelling on the subject. Jarod's departure was inevitable. Shaking off the dark mood that had engulfed her so suddenly, Parker left her bedroom and made her way toward the kitchen.  
  
As Parker rummaged in the refrigerator, an icy shiver ran down the back of her neck, making the hair at her nape stand up. Only half aware of what she was doing, Parker abandoned her son's semi-prepared snack on the counter. She had nearly crossed the livingroom and stood only a few feet away from the front door when someone knocked loudly on the other side.  
  
With a sigh of resignation, Parker reached out and opened the door. The woman on the threshold wasn't Jarod's wife, that much Parker knew. Though Parker had never met the pretender's bride, she had seen the picture he dutifully carried in his wallet. Zoë was a red-head, but the woman staring at Parker now was blonde.  
  
For a long moment the two ladies stared at each other in silence. Through the process of elimination, Parker determined the identity of her visitor. "You're Susan," she said finally.  
  
The blonde woman smiled. "We've met, but were never properly introduced," the other woman said holding out her hand. "Susan Granger."  
  
Shaking the offered hand, Parker frowned. "I'm afraid I don't recall meeting you Ms. Granger."  
  
Susan nodded. "You were chasing Jarod through a window in my office. Fired a few shots at him as I recall," her voice dripped with wry curiosity.  
  
"He isn't here," Parker bit. Realizing how petulant she sounded, Parker did her best to rein in her temper. Sighing sadly, she stepped aside and gestured Susan into the house. "He's gone to pick up my son from school. He'll be back any minute."  
  
The other woman smiled politely as she quickly surveyed the room. "You're Miss Parker then," she said.  
  
Parker nodded. "I shudder to think what Jarod may have told you about me," she added.  
  
"Don't," the blonde replied. "He rarely talks about his past. The only reason I'm here is that this was Jarod's last assignment before he disappeared. It seemed a logical place to start looking for him."  
  
"Jarod has been here for nearly three months," Parker gasped. "You're only just now starting to search for him?"  
  
"It wasn't my place to go looking until someone hired me to do so," Susan said flatly. "Jarod is a friend and my employee. But he can take care of himself. If he decides to go on an extended vacation," the woman shrugged. "I say he's earned it."  
  
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Parker asked abruptly. She found herself liking this boldly honest blonde detective.  
  
As the two women headed for the kitchen, Parker asked, "So who hired you?"  
  
"Zoë and his folks," Susan answered.  
  
"Took them long enough," Parker growled.  
  
With a mild shrug Susan said, "I'm not exactly on his wife's list of favorite people right now. As I understand it, for the first couple of weeks that he was gone, his family assumed he was with me."  
  
Parker offered a steaming mug to the other woman without comment.  
  
"He's been here all along hasn't he?" Susan asked confidently.  
  
Parker nodded.  
  
"Are you sleeping with him?"  
  
"I've made the offer," Parker admitted. "But he sleeps in the guest room, or on the couch."  
  
For several minutes the two women drank their coffee in awkward silence. Neither volunteering any information to the other. It was Parker who submitted to curiosity first. "If Zoë sent you to find Jarod," she speculated. "I would gather that she wasn't the one who sent him packing."  
  
"He didn't tell you what happened?" Susan asked.  
  
Parker shrugged. "He told me enough. His wife was banging some other guy and Jarod caught her. If she wants him back," Parker added. "She'll have a hard time doing it."  
  
Susan's blue-green eyes flashed with concern as she quickly looked away. "That isn't why she hired me to find him," the detective admitted. "There's some paperwork she needs Jarod to sign."  
  
Parker nearly choked on her coffee. "She wants him to sign the divorce!" she cried. "That bitch wants out of their marriage and you're helping her speed up the process!" Parker spun out of her chair in fury.  
  
"Miss Parker," Susan said. Her voice was calm and soothing as she tried to diffuse her host's anger. "This is a terrible situation, I agree. But in all honesty, Jarod's marriage has been making him miserable for ages. I hate to see him hurt but until this is taken care of, it will fester like an open wound."  
  
Parker frowned, gnawing at her lower lip as the rage began to evaporate.  
  
Susan Granger smiled sadly. "It seems to me that you care about him very much."  
  
Parker didn't respond.  
  
"His parents are worried sick," the detective added. "They think they have lost him again."  
  
"I'm not lost," came a quiet voice from the doorway.  
  
"Jarod!" Susan's face broke into a delighted smile as she jumped from her chair. Wrapping Jarod in a warm embrace, the detective quickly chided him, "Give me a little warning next time you decide to vanish would you please?" Susan whacked the pretender in the arm as she continued, "I'm supposed to be a better than average detective you know. It looks bad when I misplace my own people."  
  
"Sorry Sue," Jarod said with chagrin. "I was being terribly selfish. It won't happen again."  
  
"I'm just glad you're all right," the blonde told him. Glancing up at him suspiciously she asked, "You are all right, aren't you?"  
  
Jarod thought about it for a moment and then smiled. "Yes," he said. "I would have to say that I am doing just fine."  
  
"Then call your mother and tell her so, "Susan stated brusquely.  
  
"I will," the pretender vowed.  
  
"Good," the detective straightened and eyed her employee critically. "Shall I tell her how to get in touch with you?" she asked.  
  
"No need," Jarod replied. "Tell her you've contacted me and that I promised to be back in a couple days. I'll need to make some arrangements here."  
  
Parker sat, silently staring into her suddenly tasteless brew, as Jarod walked his employer out to her rental car. Teddy blew into the room a few minutes later, already changed out of his school uniform and into play clothes. Parker did her best to listen as the boy prattled on about his day. But her thoughts kept slipping away from the child's chatter.  
  
Teddy would be heartbroken when the pretender left them. The boy was of an age to be craving paternal relationships. Though Teddy adored Sydney, the child had quickly found a much stronger bond with Jarod than he'd ever had with the older man.  
  
Jarod returned and casually began sautéing onions and peeling potatoes for the evening meal. As he worked, he regaled Teddy with an odd tale about two starving soldiers, a couple of rocks and a big black soup kettle. Parker listened closely, somehow expecting the story to lead up to news of the pretender's imminent departure. But instead, the moral of the narrative dealt with cooperation and sharing.  
  
All evening, Parker waited. As time wore on, Jarod still said nothing to the boy about leaving. Long after the house had gone quiet for the night, Parker laid in bed staring blankly at the ceiling. It occurred to her that Jarod might go without saying goodbye to her or her little boy. A sudden rage flared in her but it was quickly doused.  
  
It was possible that Jarod would move on without saying anything to Parker. That had always been the nature of the strange relationship they shared. But the pretender would never abandon the child without any explanation. Jarod wouldn't leave the boy wondering what had become of him.  
  
Parker slept little that night. She tossed and turned, her emotions swinging back and forth from anger to sadness. She tried to convince herself that her turmoil was for Teddy's sake, for how the child would be hurt. But by the time dawn crept over the horizon, Parker had admitted to herself that her son would not be alone in his pain.  
  
Heaving her weary body out of bed, Parker pulled on a robe and stumbled through the house. A stab of panic struck when she walked through the livingroom and found only a rumpled blanket on the couch. Her fear quickly changed to irritation as she heard a sound from the kitchen and realized that Jarod was making coffee.  
  
Standing in the doorway, Parker glared at the pretender. He must have woken up only a few minutes before she had. Jarod was naked to the waist, the blue jeans he'd worn yesterday riding low on his lean hips. Dark hair stuck up in disheveled tufts on Jarod's head and as Parker watched he combed the stray locks back with one hand.  
  
Registering her presence, Jarod turned toward Miss Parker and grinned. "Good morning," he purred.  
  
With the early morning sunshine streaming through the window at his back, the pretender was a beautiful specimen. Parker shook her head sadly and sat down at the table. Unable to say what she really wanted to, she chose instead to say nothing.  
  
Jarod worked wordlessly, fixing two mugs and placing one in front of Parker before he sat at the table next to her. They sipped at their cups in silence for a long time. Parker could feel the pretender's eyes on her but she stubbornly refused to return his gaze.  
  
"Is something wrong Miss Parker?" he asked after a time.  
  
"No," she growled in return. "Everything is just peachy."  
  
"Uh-huh," Jarod replied in a voice that dripped with disbelief. Silence reigned again for several minutes. As Jarod rose and refilled his cup he asked, "Do you need to be at the Centre on Monday?"  
  
"What?" Parker asked with a frown.  
  
"Monday," the pretender teased. "Day after Sunday. First day of the work week. The day most working stiffs dread."  
  
Parker's confusion deepened.  
  
Jarod shrugged. "I'll have to see a lawyer while we're in Miami and I highly doubt that I'll get in to see one over the weekend. Therefore, I'll need to make an appointment for Monday."  
  
"While we are in Miami?" Parker felt as though she'd come into a movie five minutes after the main plot had been revealed. She had definitely missed something here.  
  
The pretender sat back down in his chair and gazed at Parker earnestly. "You don't mind coming with me do you?"  
  
"But," Parker started.  
  
"I've asked Sydney to watch Teddy for a few days," Jarod went on. "I'd love to take the kid with us but this first trip is bound to be a little ... uncomfortable."  
  
"Jarod," Miss Parker said with a wary sigh.  
  
Reaching across the table, Jarod abruptly grabbed Parker's hand. "Please don't say 'no'," he urged. "They'll want me to stay and I don't know how to tell them otherwise. If you are with me, and your son is still here in Delaware, I won't have to say anything. They'll know."  
  
"I thought, "Parker stuttered.  
  
Jarod simply would not let her finish. "Please Parker. Three days. One long weekend. I know it will be awkward and my mother is liable to be a little hostile," the pretender sighed. "But it's time we all faced the truth."  
  
Parker swallowed, her eyes locked on the two hands clasped on the wooden tabletop. "What truth?" she whispered. She watched in fascination as Jarod's fingers flexed, squeezing her hand gently.  
  
"The truth about their runaway son," Jarod said softly. "And where he really belongs."  
  
"And where, exactly, would that be?" Parker felt a delighted grin spreading across her face.  
  
"Annoyingly close to the only person who ever had a chance of catching him," the pretender smiled.  
  
-  
  
End part 7 


	8. Florida

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it.  
  
-  
  
**Veil of Contentment - Part 8**  
- By Phenyx  
- 05/15/04  
  
-  
  
The flight from Blue Cove to Florida was a calm one. Jarod went forward to the cabin and chatted with the pilot for a time. When the pretender returned to his seat, Parker felt the need to tease him about it.  
  
"Does he pass?" Parker asked wryly as Jarod refastened his seatbelt.  
  
"Pass?" Jarod asked in confusion.  
  
Parker smiled. "Does Captain Evers fulfill your requirements for a satisfactory pilot?"  
  
"Dan is a good man," the pretender answered with a casual shrug. "His eldest son was seriously injured in a motorcycle accident and nearly died. Chad was confined to a wheelchair for more than a year. It was rough on the entire family." Jarod smiled brightly. "But Dan tells me that his son is a young man now. He finished college last year and is engaged to a very nice girl."  
  
"Dan Evers has been flying Centre jets for more than ten years," Parker shook her head in surprise. "I didn't even know he was married. Here you've learned his life story in less than an hour."  
  
Jarod laughed. "I've know Dan for a while," he admitted. At Parker's suspicious frown, Jarod answered guiltily, "I may have helped with his son's physical therapy just a bit."  
  
"Just a bit," Parker stated with a knowing grin. "Years ago."  
  
"Several years ago," the pretender confessed. "Knowing when jets were leaving Delaware was very helpful at times. Besides," he added. "I've had to borrow one or two on occasion."  
  
"You sneaky s.o.b." Parker scolded.  
  
Jarod smiled. "You were just too good Parker," he said. "I needed all the help I could get to stay out of your clutches."  
  
"It didn't work," Parker hissed playfully. "I've got you now."  
  
"Hmm," the pretender's voice dropped into a low rumble. "Yes you do. Be careful Parker, don't let me get away."  
  
"Oh I won't," she replied in an equally husky tone. "I'll tie you down if necessary."  
  
"Promises, promises."  
  
Since their discussion in the kitchen yesterday morning, this kind of verbal taunting had begun to bubble to the surface. What had once been a subdued sensuality between them had abruptly lost all traces of subtlety. They'd started to openly flirt with each other and it was quickly becoming damned erotic.  
  
The plane landed in Miami uneventfully. A quick stop at a reservation desk provided the couple with a rented automobile and they were soon on the road toward their destination. With each passing mile, Parker could see Jarod grow more and more tense.  
  
"Jarod," Parker said softly. "If she's there, I don't have to stay."  
  
"No!" the pretender cried. With a sigh he took Parker's hand in one of his own, controlling the steering wheel with the other. "I'm really counting on you to get me out of there. If Zoë's still at the house, we'll figure something out."  
  
"God Jarod, what if the boyfriend is there?" Parker groaned. This situation had an increasing potential for disaster. Parker could only imagine how awkward this was for her companion.  
  
"So what?" the pretender said with a shrug. "There's nothing left between Zoë and me. I wish her the best of luck. If this guy makes her happy..." Jarod shrugged again.  
  
"You're being terribly kind about all this," Parker said.  
  
"I've had time to get used to the idea. Besides, Zoë is not the only one at fault," Jarod admitted ruefully. "I'm the one to blame. I screwed up royally."  
  
"How do you figure?" Parker gasped.  
  
Jarod glanced away from the road just long enough to give Parker a piercing look. "I married the wrong girl," he whispered.  
  
"Then why did you marry her?" Parker asked.  
  
"I knew she'd say yes when I asked," was the reply.  
  
Not knowing how to respond to that statement, Parker chose to remain silent.  
  
When they arrived at their destination, Jarod pulled the car to a stop in front of the house. He opened the trunk and lifted out the two small cases that made up all the luggage they had brought with them. Carrying both bags under one arm he took Parker by the hand and led her to the front door.  
  
As the pretender rang the doorbell, Parker gazed up at him knowingly. Jarod rarely did anything without reason. His actions now were intentional and well calculated. Standing on the front porch of his own house, Jarod was waiting for someone to let him in. Parker wondered if anyone in Jarod's family would recognize the significance of what he did. To Parker the pretender's meaning was as obvious as a neon sign. This place no longer belonged to him. This wasn't his home anymore and he could not come and go as if it was.  
  
Parker's thoughts were interrupted when the door suddenly opened. A young man stood before them, his dark eyes as searching and expressive as Jarod's had always been. As the two men faced each other, Parker felt as though reality had slipped somehow. It was like looking through a window of time and seeing the young man Jarod had been decades ago. Even their clothes were similar.  
  
"Hello Jack," Jarod said with a smile.  
  
"Jarod!" the other man cried gleefully. "Hot Damn! Jarod's home," he added yelling into the house. Throwing open the screen door, Jarod's younger twin tackled him in a huge bear hug. "You had us really worried bro," Jack said as he squeezed Jarod hard. "Ethan and I were laying bets as to where they'd find the body."  
  
Parker choked back her shock but Jarod only laughed. "You'll have to forgive my little brother," the pretender chortled. "But he's never quite mastered the subtleties of polite society."  
  
The young man stuck his tongue out at Jarod and then turned toward Parker. "Admittedly ma'am, I am an asshole of the highest caliber," Jack said with an exaggerated bow.  
  
"You can't possibly be as big a jerk as Jarod has always been," Parker commented.  
  
"I do my best," the young man said with a grin. "But he has set the bar pretty high."  
  
"I think I've just been insulted," Jarod gasped.  
  
"A genius mind at work," Jack snickered. He stepped forward and, much to her surprise, kissed Miss Parker's cheek. "It's nice to see you again Miss Parker," he said.  
  
Parker smiled. "I'm glad you haven't forgotten me."  
  
"I never forget a beautiful woman," Jack drawled in an all too familiar voice. "Especially one who tried to protect me from the boogeyman."  
  
Jarod glanced from one face to the other, a frown of uncertainty creasing his brow. "I didn't realize that you two had met," the pretender said.  
  
"Miss Parker tried to bust me out of the Centre just before you showed up in my life," Jack explained with a shrug.  
  
"I would have found a way to free him but you beat me to the punch," Parker added with an offhanded air.  
  
A delighted screech ended their conversation as Jarod's mother burst from the house. What followed was a chaotic reunion and much excited chattering as Jarod's family greeted their arrival. Parker lurked in the background for several minutes until Ethan showed up and dragged her into the fray.  
  
Parker's half-brother was happier now than when she had first known him. They had been in contact over the years and he had visited her on more than one occasion. Yet it was Jarod's family that had helped him, calmed his tortured mind. Ethan had matured, now carrying with him a sense of serene wisdom rarely found in a man under the age of eighty.  
  
It was Ethan who noticed the first signs of a problem. "This is all you've brought with you?" he asked, gesturing to the two small pieces of luggage.  
  
"We left Parker's little boy with ..." Jarod stumbled over his words barely long enough for anyone to notice. "A friend. We can't stay more than a few days."  
  
"I see," Jarod's mother replied in a frigid tone.  
  
Grabbing the suitcases, Jack asked, "Shall I put these both in your room?"  
  
"Well," Jarod frowned with indecision.  
  
"It's okay, son," the Major said with a reassuring pat on Jarod's shoulder. "She moved out a couple of months ago."  
  
The pretender breathed a heavy sigh of relief and nodded at this younger twin.  
  
"Zoë took a lot of stuff with her," Ethan offered.  
  
Jarod waved off his brother's concern. "I don't mind," the pretender said. "I won't need it anymore."  
  
"You should find out what you've got left before saying that Bro," Jack said with a grimace.  
  
"If you had been around, you could have specified what she was or was not allowed to have," Jarod's mother scolded him.  
  
"I honestly don't care Mother," the pretender told her.  
  
"Jarod," Parker spoke up. "Why don't you show me around while you take inventory. Might as well get it over with."  
  
Ethan's warning was well founded. Jarod led Parker through the kitchen and opened a thick paneled oak door. Stepping across the threshold, Parker realized that they were in a private section of the house. The wide, open area contained little furniture. The apartment had that empty, nearly echoing feeling of a space that had too few things.  
  
The spacious living room held a single easy chair, one end table and a barren television stand. A brightly colored throw rug took up most of the floor in the center of the room.  
  
With a wry smile Jarod said, "She always hated this pattern."  
  
They wandered upstairs where Jarod pointed out the restroom. Parker took a few minutes to freshen up and run a comb through her hair. When she came back into the hallway, Jarod was waiting for her.  
  
"Hold this," he said, gruffly handing over a silver case. "We'll take it back with us."  
  
Parker nodded. "You're lucky she left it," she said. "She could have been bitchy and taken it with her. Or worse, she could have destroyed it."  
  
Jarod looked at her strangely. "Zoë didn't know what it was," he explained.  
  
It was Parker's turn to eye the pretender oddly. "You never showed her the DSAs?"  
  
"No,"  
  
"Not even one?" Parker pressed.  
  
"There was never any cause to do so," he said.  
  
"Oh Jarod," Parker sighed sadly. "You never really let her know anything about you, did you?"  
  
Jarod shrugged. "There was just so much to explain," he said. "I didn't know how to start. So I never did."  
  
"What a load of crap," Parker shook her head in understanding. "We are too much alike, you and I," she said, softly caressing his cheek. "I know why you don't want to talk about the past."  
  
Jarod's eyelids fluttered closed as he stepped closer, nuzzling against Parker's palm. "It frightens me," he whispered. "The things I've done. The darkness that I am capable of."  
  
"I know," Parker replied. She wrapped her arms around Jarod and held him close.  
  
The pretender buried his face in Parker's hair and inhaled deeply. "There's one thing I never quite figured out," he murmured into her ear.  
  
"What's that?" she asked.  
  
Jarod pulled back and gazed intently into Parker's upturned face as he spoke. "Are you a light in that darkness, or another one of the shadows?"  
  
"You don't want me to answer that question," Parker's voice was laced with years of sorrow.  
  
Dark brown eyes twinkled with sudden mischief. "We'd probably disagree anyway," Jarod said with a smile.  
  
"You just like to be contrary," Parker growled.  
  
"Arguing with you is the high point of my day," Jarod said with a devilish grin.  
  
Parker laughed a low sultry sound and stepped forward. Not quite leaning against Jarod, Parker was so close that the heat from their bodies mingled, and yet they did not actually touch. Jarod's long lashes fluttered closed once more as he sighed contentedly.  
  
"We'll have to see if we can't find something more interesting for you to look forward to," Parker whispered.  
  
With a rumbling groan Jarod abruptly closed the space that separated them. Capturing Parker's lips in his own he kissed her hungrily. Time evaporated as they stood in the empty hallway, breathing the air from each other's lungs.  
  
"Jarod," Parker gasped after several long minutes.  
  
"Hmm?" was the incoherent response.  
  
"Are you trying to suck my fillings out?" she laughed.  
  
"Mmm," he replied as he nibbled a trail down Parker's neck.  
  
"Jarod," Parker hissed. "Take me to bed."  
  
"Damn," the pretender pulled away with great effort. "There isn't one."  
  
"What?" Parker blinked, her body suddenly cold where Jarod was no longer pressed against it.  
  
The pretender was panting as he answered, "The guestroom is completely bare and I'll be damned if our first time is in my wife's bed."  
  
Parker sighed in frustration. "You and your damned sense of honor," she growled angrily.  
  
"I'll make it up to you, Parker," Jarod promised. "I swear."  
  
"You'd better," she snapped as she stomped down the stairs.  
  
Jarod hurried after her. He caught up with her in the livingroom. Parker was standing in the middle of the rug, gazing morosely at the large blocks or color in the plush fabric. Her body radiated the severe ice queen chill; her back ramrod straight and her arms wrapped defensively across her chest.  
  
"I'm sorry," Jarod said in voice little more than a whisper.  
  
Parker sagged at the sincere anguish in the pretender's voice. "Don't be," she said as her eyes softened. "I can't fault you for being true to your word. It may be misguided at times but your loyalty is a big part of who you are."  
  
"Even if it means being faithful to an unfaithful spouse?" Jarod said in a wry tone.  
  
Parker smiled as she let her anger slip away. "I knew you weren't as bright as you claim to be," she teased.  
  
Jarod laughed, a deep rich sound of pure delight. They stood there smiling at each other, neither aware that someone else had joined them in the room.  
  
"I think I can worry about you less, eh big brother?" A pretty auburn- haired young woman stood in the doorway that led to the other half of the house. She was wearing shorts and a sleeveless blue blouse. Fashionable strap sandals graced her feet.  
  
"You don't have to worry about me, Em," Jarod said as he bent to hug his sister.  
  
"I can see that," she snickered. With a curious glance at Miss Parker she continued, "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."  
  
Jarod glanced at Miss Parker with a heavy sigh. "Are you ready to face the gauntlet?" he asked.  
  
"Piece of cake," she replied with a careless toss of her head.  
  
"Mom is more than a little upset," Emily informed them. "She's bound to be a little frosty."  
  
"Try having dinner with the Parker family some time," Miss Parker drawled. "At least with your clan, "she added as she breezed past Jarod. "I'll be the only one in the room who's armed."  
  
Jarod chuckled at Emily's raised eyebrows. "She's kidding," he assured his sister. "You are kidding, aren't you?" he called anxiously after Parker's retreating form.  
  
--  
  
Several hours later, Jarod stood in the darkened livingroom leaning against the window. Staring down at Miss Parker's sleeping form, he wondered at the oddness of his situation. On one hand, having her here, stretched tantalizingly across a mound of quilts and blankets on the floor, was nearly driving the pretender mad. But on the other, Parker's presence made things so much easier.  
  
Dealing with his mother had become more difficult for Jarod as the evening had worn on. She was obviously saddened and confused by his choice to return to Delaware. Parker made for an easy target and Margaret quickly chose to blame the slim brunette for her son's defection.  
  
At first Jarod had done what he could to defend Parker from his mother's petty jibs. But it had quickly become apparent that Parker needed no protection in this arena. Jarod knew that his Mother was being cold and unfriendly. Yet the snide comments and rude remarks slid off Parker's thick hide like water off a duck.  
  
Jarod pushed away from the window and moved through the shadows to crouch at Parker's side. He gazed down at her and marveled at her tenacity. Parker had spent most of her life in a verbal and emotional brawl with her own family. A few veiled discourtesies from his mother would not faze her. Parker could hold her own against Lyle, Brigette and Raines. Margaret Lucht had no idea what she was up against.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Jarod stood and quietly left the room. He walked softly through the house, giving up on his attempts to sleep. Moving in darkness, Jarod went to the kitchen and began preparing a pot of coffee. He was sitting at the table still nursing his first cup more than an hour later. The sky outside was just beginning to brighten when his mother came in to the room.  
  
"Why are you sitting in the dark, dear?" she asked as she flipped on the light switch.  
  
Jarod blinked against the sudden illumination and shrugged. "No reason," he said with a smile. "I was just thinking."  
  
Margaret glanced at her son. "Thinking about anything in particular?" she pried.  
  
"Not really."  
  
Pouring coffee into a mug of her own, Jarod's mother added, "Someone in particular perhaps?"  
  
"Maybe," Jarod answered sheepishly.  
  
Margaret's displeasure was written on her face. "I don't understand why you waste your time with those Parkers," she grumbled.  
  
"I'm not wasting my time," the pretender snapped. With a sigh, Jarod softened his voice. "I know you don't understand the relationship between me and her. Hell, I don't completely understand it myself." Jarod paused for a long moment, trying to find the words to explain the strange bond he shared with his ex-huntress. "I was about ten-years-old when she and I first met. Did you know that?"  
  
Jarod's mother shook her head.  
  
The pretender leaned back and got a faraway look on his face, as though he was reliving the moment in his memory. "We met only a few months after I had been told that you were dead and a few months before her mother's supposed suicide." Jarod tilted his head, and gazed at his mother sadly. "We'd both been lied to. There had been no plane crash. Her mother was murdered long after that staged death in the elevator. But we were just children. How were we to know that our grief was based on lies?"  
  
The pretender stared thoughtfully into his cold coffee. "There was no one else to turn to Mother," Jarod finally went on. "So we gravitated toward each other and became friends. We learned to trust each other when there was no one else to believe in. As the years passed, we were taught to be on guard, to trust no one, ever. We learned our lessons well and we survived."  
  
"But no matter what they threw at us," the pretender continued. "The pain they caused, the emotional security they stripped from us time and time again to keep us in line. None of that could eradicate the pure and simple faith that two lonely children forged in one another."  
  
"She's dangerous," Margaret whispered.  
  
"Yes," Jarod admitted. "I've found myself staring down the barrel of her gun more often than you want to know. But she never breaks a promise. I've placed my life in her hands many times and she's never failed to come through for me when I needed her."  
  
Jarod reached out and clasped his mother's hands between his own, squeezing them gently for emphasis. "I can depend on her Mother. You can't begin to fathom how incredible it is for me to be able to count on someone."  
  
Margaret stood and moved to Jarod's side. She wrapped her first-born child in her arms and held him close. Kissing the top of his head Margaret said, "You can depend on us, Jarod. We are your family."  
  
Sad brown eyes gazed up at the older woman. "I'm trying Mom. I really am," Jarod told her.  
  
"But you're going back to Delaware anyway."  
  
The pretender buried his face in his mother's shoulder. "Please don't ask me to choose," he begged in voice filled with anguish. "Please."  
  
"I don't want to lose you," Margaret choked back a sob.  
  
"You won't Mother. I promise," Jarod sniffed. "I'll visit often."  
  
Margaret straightened and stared intently into her son's upturned face. "Does she make you happy?"  
  
Jarod's face burst into a brilliant smile. "She always has. I can't explain it, but I'm happier when she's snarling at me than I have ever been in her absence."  
  
Jarod's mother sighed in defeat. "I'm going to have to learn to like this girl, aren't I?" she asked.  
  
"Give it twenty or thirty years, Mom," Jarod chuckled. "She grows on you."  
  
-  
  
End Part8 


	9. Home is where the heart is

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. Actually it is intended but I'm not making any profit so there's really no point in suing me over it.  
  
-  
  
Veil of Contentment - Part 9  
  
- By Phenyx  
  
- 05/21/04  
  
Authors Note: Be warned! This will be so sappy that it should be served with an order of pancakes and waffles.  
  
-  
  
"Mmm," Miss Parker sighed. "This is nice. We'll have to get one for our porch."  
  
"Our porch," the two words were a simple statement rather than a question.  
  
Parker nodded. She liked the sound of Jarod's voice. With her eyes closed and her head against his shoulder, the pretender's low timber rumbled through her entire body. Parker had her legs curled beneath her as she sat yet the wooden swing continued to glide gently back and forth. It was a lovely sensation, not unlike floating. Jarod kept the motion going smoothly and methodically with a regularity that was nearly hypnotic.  
  
It was late Sunday afternoon and the heat of the day was just beginning to ease away. Jarod and Parker were both nearly dozing in relaxation. Over the last couple of days, things had gotten easier with the pretender's family. To Parker, it was obvious that Jarod and his mother had come to some sort of truce. The older woman hadn't exactly been friendly, but in the last day or so she had managed to be civil.  
  
Parker was greatly relieved. Though she would chew nails rather than admit it, Parker found the early barbs cast by Margaret to be slightly hurtful. Years of experience had taught Miss Parker how to laugh off such insignificant wounds, shielding her torn feelings from everyone. In the past, Parker had tolerated much worse treatment from her own family but she was glad that Margaret had eased up.  
  
Jarod yawned loudly and leaned one cheek against the top of Miss Parker's head.  
  
"Tired Rat?" Parker asked.  
  
"Hmm," Jarod replied noncommittally.  
  
"You aren't going to fall asleep are you?" she said.  
  
The pretender nodded his head in response. "It is a distinct possibility."  
  
Parker sighed. "Don't let the swing stop," she demanded.  
  
"I won't."  
  
Neither of them had been sleeping well since their arrival. Of course, the sleeping arrangements had a lot to be desired. They slept side-by-side on a heap of linen barely six inches deep. To be honest, it wasn't the poor bedding that kept them up nights. It was the platonic nature of the nights spent beside each other that was the problem.  
  
They had never actually shared a bed before. It was a distinctly distracting experience. Parker found herself drawn to the heat that radiated from the pretender's body. Lying beside him, Parker felt every nerve ending acutely tuned to Jarod's every move, every twitch. His scent surrounded her, enveloping her in the essence of him.  
  
Parker wanted him. She wanted him in the most primal of ways. But Jarod was still married, still bound by an oath he'd taken before a minister. So, it was sheer frustration and unsatisfied longing that troubled them at night.  
  
Why they chose to suffer this way, Parker couldn't say. There were other rooms in this section of the house. There was even a bed upstairs in the master bedroom. More rational people would have chosen to remove the temptation and retire each night to separate rooms. Then again, there was little that was logical about the relationship between the pretender and herself.  
  
Parker's thoughts were abruptly halted. It wasn't really a sound that had disturbed her musings, but rather a sudden change in Jarod's demeanor. His body tensed up, as if preparing for flight, and the motion of the swing faltered ever so slightly.  
  
Glancing up into Jarod's face, Parker could see the frown creasing the pretender's brow. Following his gaze, Parker watched with a strange detachment as a large red convertible made its way up the driveway. The car was driven by a woman who looked to be somewhere on the younger side of her thirties. She had curly red hair that billowed wildly around her head as the wind whipped it around. Beside her sat a man, obviously younger by several years. He had long blond hair and gloriously tanned skin. He was lovely to look at, of that Parker could not deny.  
  
"Surfer," was the first thought that flitted through Parker's mind. Only when Jarod choked back laughter did she realize she'd spoken aloud.  
  
As the car came to a stop, the two people cautiously stepped from the vehicle. Parker could feel Jarod practically vibrating with tension. The pretender had a well-honed fight or flight response, and at the moment, it was kicking into high gear.  
  
"You okay?" Parker asked.  
  
Jarod swallowed, glancing miserably at the beautiful brunette. "You shouldn't have to do this," he hissed. "It will be horribly uncomfortable."  
  
"Don't worry Jarod," Parker told him. "I won't start anything. But if she does, I promise to finish it quickly."  
  
Parker did not alter her position in any way. She remained curled at Jarod's side like a contented cat. One hand rested casually on Jarod's chest while the other moved to caress his upper thigh.  
  
The red-haired woman slowly climbed the stairs and stepped onto the porch, her young man's hand clenched tightly in her own. "Jarod," she greeted with a nod.  
  
"Hello Zoë," Jarod said in an almost apologetic tone.  
  
"I came by to get my mail," Zoë explained.  
  
Jarod shrugged. "You'll have to ask my mother about that," he said.  
  
There was a long awkward pause.  
  
"I didn't know you were back," Zoë said finally.  
  
"Just visiting," was the pretender's curt reply.  
  
"Oh." Zoë's eyes flickered meaningfully to Miss Parker, but Jarod did not volunteer any further information.  
  
The strained silence stretched between them again until the red head could no longer stand it. "Does your boss know about his one?" Zoë asked cruelly as she gestured toward Miss Parker.  
  
Parker applied a gentle pressure to Jarod's chest, signaling to him that she would answer. "As a matter of fact I met Ms. Granger just a few days ago. We had a very nice chat."  
  
Crossing her arms, Jarod's wife drawled spitefully, "Deciding which of you would get to steal my husband from me?"  
  
If no one else sensed the change in Miss Parker, Jarod did. Parker's smile grew deadly cold. He imagined that it must be the same smile she would give a man before she shot him. The sweet tone in her voice did little to hide the malice behind it.  
  
"Can't be stolen from you if he doesn't belong to you sweetheart," Parker said. "He wasn't yours to keep."  
  
Zoë's jaw dropped. "You don't own him," she said in a voice trembling with fury.  
  
"Perhaps not." Parker rose from the swing and crossed the porch like a panther closing in for the kill. "But I won't let him go without a fight. He'll not escape me without a chase."  
  
The pretender made a sound low in his throat but Parker didn't pause to identify its meaning.  
  
"You let go too easily, without ever knowing the true value of the gift he has given you," Parker said. Her voice softened as she went on. "It is an understandable mistake, one I made myself once. In a way, I feel sorry for you Zoë. You'll never get a second chance with him. Because he has given that chance to me, and I do not intend to blow it this time around."  
  
Zoë sputtered in rage. For a moment, Jarod feared that his wife might try to take a swing at the other woman. The pretender cringed, only too aware of the damage Miss Parker could inflict when provoked, even without a weapon.  
  
It was the long haired boy-toy that broke the tension. "Zoë," he said softly. "Let's go. Have the mail forwarded. There is no reason for us to be here."  
  
Zoë straightened. Gathering as much dignity as she could muster, she turned on her heel and walked away. Parker stood regally on the porch, glaring until Zoë and her lover had gotten back into the car. With a slamming of doors and screeching of tires the convertible disappeared.  
  
Jarod moved soundlessly across the wooden planks to stand behind Miss Parker. He didn't touch her or speak. Yet Parker sensed his presence.  
  
"That was relatively painless," Parker murmured.  
  
The pretender's silence drew Parker's attention. He was looking at her with an amused grin on his face.  
  
"What?" Miss Parker asked.  
  
Jarod's grin widened even more. "Incredible," he said.  
  
"What?" she asked again.  
  
Leaning in close Jarod said, "I never thought you could make a mistake Miss Parker. Let alone admit to one."  
  
Parker heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You are a jerk."  
  
"But you love me anyway," Jarod said, nearly bursting with glee.  
  
Miss Parker crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the pretender haughtily. "Are you only just now figuring that out?"  
  
Jarod shrugged helplessly.  
  
"Some genius," Parker muttered.  
  
The pretender folded his hands behind his back and began to rock back and forth on his heels. He was positively ecstatic, like a child standing before a mound of presents on Christmas morning. "I really want to kiss you right now," he declared.  
  
"Why don't you?"  
  
Jarod sighed. His eyes raked down the length of her body and back before he answered. "If I start I won't be able to stop. And I don't think my mother's front porch is the most romantic place to be ravaged."  
  
Parker bit down on her lower lip in an unsuccessful attempt to hide a smirk. "Probably not," she agreed.  
  
"But when I get you home," Jarod growled as he leaned in close. "I plan to have my way with you."  
  
"Promises, promises," Parker laughed.  
  
--  
  
As a point of fact, they didn't actually get home before Jarod followed through on his promise. They made love for the first time on the leather seats of a private jet somewhere above the Georgia-South Carolina state line. Just after the flight had reached a cruising altitude, the pretender knelt before Miss Parker and solemnly offered her a thick envelope. The packet contained newly signed divorce papers, the ink barely dry. Parker accepted them with a smile and Jarod promptly tackled her. Amid joyous laughter and a little swearing over a stubborn button, they managed to consummate their decades long relationship.  
  
Once they reached Delaware and settled back into daily life, Jarod continued to be an enthusiastic lover. Having a small boy in the house did a lot to hamper the couple's rendezvous but the pretender was devilishly resourceful and imaginative. Doors with locks on them became precious commodities yet not a necessity. Jarod regularly found ways to catch Miss Parker alone. He was especially fond of joining her at the office during lunch hours and taking her right on top of the desk.  
  
Teddy adapted well to the fact that his mother and Jarod now shared the bedroom at the end of the hall. The boy had lived a life full of changes. This newest one was easily accepted and even encouraged. The first time he called Jarod "Dad", both adults had reacted with surprise but neither tried to correct him.  
  
Jarod took his role as a paternal figure very seriously. He went out of his way to make time for the child. The pretender never tired of answering Teddy's questions, no matter how trivial or strange. As a matter of fact, the only time the little boy ever made Jarod squirm was when he had asked about his birth mother over breakfast one morning.  
  
"Hey Dad," Teddy had chirped around a mouthful of granola.  
  
Jarod folded his newspaper and set it aside before responding. "Yes Ted?"  
  
"Did you know my real mom?"  
  
Parker nearly dropped her coffee cup as she began to choke on the steaming brew. She regained her composure quickly and glanced warily at Jarod.  
  
After a long thoughtful pause, Jarod said. "Yes. I knew her."  
  
The little boy's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Tell me about her!"  
  
"Well," Jarod cast a fearful look at Parker who could do nothing but shrug helplessly. With a heavy sigh the pretender answered, "She was very beautiful."  
  
"And?" Teddy urged.  
  
Jarod licked his lips nervously. "She was strong and smart. Very determined." When Jarod volunteered no further information, the little boy seemed to sag with disappointment. Guilt forced the pretender to press on. "We weren't friends, Teddy. I didn't know her well. But I know that she loved your father. I know she loved you very much."  
  
Later that night as they lay together in their bed, Jarod and Miss Parker discussed the incident. The pretender confessed to near panic. "I was terrified that he was going to ask me about Mr. Parker," Jarod said.  
  
"You would have come up with something," Parker told him confidently. "You did a fine job discussing Bridgette."  
  
"I never disliked her as much as I did your old man," Jarod admitted.  
  
"Why not?" Parker asked. "She was a class-A bitch who deserved to be disliked."  
  
"True," the pretender said with a nod. "But she had a nice ass. And I've always been attracted to the bitchy type."  
  
A pillow muffled Jarod's laughter as Miss Parker began to thrash him with it. They spent the next several minutes wrestling on the mattress. Jarod snickered while Parker did her best to make him pay for his comments.  
  
--  
  
Parker rolled over in the dark and felt the cold empty space beside her. Jarod had been gone for three weeks now. It was the longest separation between them since he'd moved in eight months ago. Punching her pillow to fluff it, Parker sighed heavily before snuggling under the thick quilt. She missed him damn it. She missed his warmth in their bed, as the nights grew ever colder. She missed the murmuring sounds he made when his nightmares came. She missed his soothing arm around her when her own dreams surfaced. She missed him and wished he would come home. Or at the very least, call.  
  
The abduction had been all over the news earlier that evening. The kidnapper's arrest had been greeted with horror and astonishment. What had seemed a few weeks ago like a single missing toddler had actually been the most recent in a string of kidnappings.  
  
Parker had watched with morbid fascination as the story unfolded on her television screen. Reporters chattered excitedly as pale-faced police officers and grim federal agents filed in and out of a quaint little farmhouse in rural Kansas. Parker had no desire to see the tiny body bags wheeled into the ambulances, nor did she want to know the life story of the "nice quiet lady" who owned the house. Parker's only interest was in catching a glimpse of the private investigator that had cracked the case.  
  
She had seen Jarod on the broadcasts only once. In his black leather jacket, he stood out like a beacon among the police uniforms and detective's suits. He had looked tired, unshaven and dirty. The pretender had rushed from the house with his arm around a dark-haired police officer. The younger man was as pale as a ghost and as news cameras rolled, the officer had thrown up in a flower garden full of wilting mums. Jarod fended of the news crews with an angry snarl and held the other man's shoulders as he vomited.  
  
Details regarding the murders were still sketchy. Families still needed to be contacted so there was very little information being released to the public as yet. But the case was solved. There were even unconfirmed reports that the suspect had confessed.  
  
Jarod's assignment in Kansas was over. Parker had waited up until well after midnight, hoping to hear from the wayward pretender. But there had been no word. It had been a disappointed Miss Parker that had finally dragged herself to bed several hours ago, only to toss and turn all night.  
  
It never occurred to her that Jarod might be wounded. She wasn't in the least bit worried about him in the physical sense. After years of escaping whatever the Centre had thrown at him, with rarely a scratch to show for it, Parker knew that Jarod could take care of himself.  
  
Parker curled on her side and stared sleeplessly into the dark. She was surrounded by silence, the rhythmic sighs of her breathing the only sound. When she glimpsed a subtle movement out of the corner of one eye, she froze. For long minutes, she waited for the motion to repeat. Just as she was beginning to think that she had imagined it, the darkness shifted again.  
  
Parker's body tensed. Her mind focused on her handgun, locked away in a metal case on the top shelf of her closet, far from the curious hands of a little boy.  
  
"Don't go for the gun Parker," a weary voice broke the silence. "It's only me."  
  
"Jarod!" sitting bolt upright in bed, Parker peered into the darkness.  
  
There was a moment's hesitation before the pretender moved again. He was blackness on blackness, a shadow amongst the shadows. Like a chameleon hiding among the foliage, it was only with motion that he became visible.  
  
"Are you okay?" Parker asked.  
  
The shadowy figure sighed. "Yeah. I'm fine," Jarod said.  
  
"I saw you on the news," she added.  
  
The darkness went frighteningly still once more.  
  
"It was pretty bad. Wasn't it?" Parker said knowingly. She sensed his nod more than she could actually see it. "Do you want to talk about it?" she pressed.  
  
"No," Jarod's answer was brusque and brittle.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"You don't want to know," Jarod groaned. "You can not imagine what travesties can be inflicted upon a child."  
  
"Can't I?" Miss Parker whispered. "Remember who you're talking to Jarod. I'm not Zoë. You don't have to protect me from the horrors of this world. I grew up surrounded by them, just like you did."  
  
The pretender made a gasping sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.  
  
Holding her arms out to him, Parker whispered. "Come here."  
  
Jarod moved slowly, haltingly, as though he was approaching the bed against his will. He sat carefully on the edge of the mattress. Parker gazed at him. Even in the dark room she could see the circles under his eyes. His beard was scruffy and his hair in disarray.  
  
"I said, 'come here'", Parker urged.  
  
Putting her arms around his shoulders, Parker pulled Jarod into a warm embrace. He resisted at first but quickly melted into her arms, pushing her down onto the bed with his weight. Parker held him tightly, running one hand through his hair. His clothes were damp. Somewhere along the trip home, he'd been caught in the rain.  
  
They held each other for a long time. Jarod was fully clothed, still wearing his boots and leather coat. His cheek lay against Parker's breast, just above her heart as though he was listening for signs of life.  
  
After a time Parker whispered fervently, "Talk to me Jarod."  
  
"I couldn't save him," the pretender sighed. "I couldn't bring Davy home to his parents."  
  
Parker squeezed her lover more tightly and waited for him to go on.  
  
Jarod's voice wavered as he spoke. "She snapped his little neck like a piece of tinder. He was probably dead before she even left the store with him." The pretender began to tremble and his voice cracked. "No one seeing her would have thought twice about it. She would have appeared to be a sweet and loving grandmother, carrying her sleeping grandson to the car. No one would have realized he didn't belong to her."  
  
Parker could feel Jarod's tears seeping through her nightshirt. His words, once started, couldn't be stopped. They tumbled out of his mouth so that Parker could only barely follow them.  
  
"She did love him," Jarod said in a faraway voice. "She loved them all. The clothes they were wearing were hand stitched. Such care and precision, the adoration she put into every minute detail. They were collected from all across the country. That's why no one connected cases."  
  
Jarod fell silent, sniffling as he tried to reign in his distress. But that was the last thing the pretender needed, Parker knew. Holding it in, burying his pain would eventually backfire. There was already too much anguish eating away at Jarod's soul.  
  
"What did she do to Davy?" Parker asked gently.  
  
At first Jarod didn't speak. When he did, the answer came in gasps. "A tea party," Jarod moaned. "She took him to a tea party. We found six children in that house. Not one of them was over the age of three when they died." The pretender was weeping opening now. His body shook with the force of his sobs. "She dressed him in a tuxedo. A little groom doll. Another was dressed as a cowboy. A little girl from Tallahassee was a ballerina."  
  
"Oh god," Parker murmured as she began to cry as well.  
  
"There was girl from Pittsburgh dressed as a clown with face paint and everything," Jarod hissed. "Her name was Kelly. She's been missing for three months but the authorities thought that her father had taken her in a custody dispute. We found him crammed into an old freezer in the basement." The pretender's voice rose as he became more and more distraught. "Parker," Jarod groaned. "She had given them all glass eyes. As their little bodies began to decompose she popped out the rotting eyeballs and replaced them with glass."  
  
"How do I get that out of my head Parker?" the pretender cried. "How?"  
  
Parker held on tight as Jarod poured out his misery. He wept until exhaustion prevented more tears and he finally quieted.  
  
"I couldn't save Davy," Jarod whispered just as Parker had begun to believe he had fallen asleep. "I couldn't save any of them."  
  
Squeezing her eyes shut, Parker offered up a silent prayer then asked, "Was there a girl in a white dress?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"A white dress and a veil," Parker murmured.  
  
Jarod paused. "No," he said slowly, shaking his head.  
  
"No doll collection is complete without one dressed as a bride, Jarod," Parker told him. "You saved her. You saved that unknown little girl who would have been next. You saved the one after her, and the one after her. You couldn't save Davy. But you saved all those who would have followed him."  
  
Jarod raised himself up on his elbows and gazed down at Miss Parker. She took his prickly cheeks in her palms and smiled reassuringly at him.  
  
"That's why you do it," Parker said. "That is why you put yourself through this time and time again. It is easy to count the corpses and tally up the failures. But there is no way to measure the number of children that will never be part of the statistics because you were there before they were taken."  
  
Dark eyes, no more than pools of shadow in the night, stared at her in stunned silence for a full minute. Parker returned the look with conviction. Jarod swallowed and nodded his head as if coming to some kind of understanding within himself.  
  
"I love you," he said suddenly.  
  
Parker kissed him and replied, "Are you just now figuring that out Genius?"  
  
"Oh no," Jarod sighed as he pillowed his head on Parker's chest. "I've known that all my life. It's the one truth that has never faltered."  
  
The pretender began to pluck half-heartedly at the buttons on Parker's shirt, making her laugh indulgently. "Are you really feeling up to that, Jarod?" she asked.  
  
"No," he admitted. "I just want to be closer to your heart." He brushed aside the silk and snuggled back down against her bare flesh, sighing with contentment.  
  
"Not possible, my love," Parker whispered as Jarod began to drift into an exhausted slumber. "Nothing can get any closer to my heart than you already are."  
  
-  
  
The End.  
  
Author's note: ::::Groan::::: Don't say I didn't warn you. Sugary sweet sap all over the place! What a mess! 


End file.
